We'll All Float On
by klemonademouth
Summary: "We can't help it, you two are entertaining. It's like watching reality TV, but far more intelligent and with more sexual repression." Wes was cradling a tub of popcorn. "Or a documentary on the mating rituals or lack thereof of gay teenagers." Klaine.
1. Confrontations

**A/N: I don't write angst. At all. Ever. So I'm a little weirded out by how angsty (at least for me) the beginning of this came out.**

**Tumblr kind of made me write this. A lot of the people there don't trust Blaine- they feel as if there's something off about him. This is what I truly believe is off. **

**FINALLY another chapter story comes to my mind. I love Klaine and I'm freaking out a little over some spoilers out there that it isn't going to happen O_O. Ryan Murphy, PLEASE. let it happen :(**

**Disclaimer: No ownage of Glee or Klaine. **

Kurt knew Blaine didn't think he noticed, but he did.

He'd noticed from the very beginning. How could he not? He'd been ecstatic on their not-a-date at Breadstix to discover that they liked _all_ the same things. Blaine had been so _outgoing, _so full of life and laughter. Kurt had thought to himself that _maybe_ he'd finally found someone. Because Blaine may not have been perfect (he was an inch shorter than Kurt, for starters), but he was perfect for _Kurt_, because he was just enough like Kurt and just enough _unlike_ Kurt to work.

At least, that's what he'd thought before Dalton.

He was _uncomfortable _there. At least, he was uncomfortable with Blaine there. For some reason, every time he talked to Blaine, he felt that sort of second-hand embarrassment he always felt every time Mercedes wore her technicolor-zebra sweatshirt.

_This_ Blaine was formal, uncomfortably so. He was impersonal, polite. He stood at a safe distance from Kurt- from everybody- and talked to him with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were careful.

At first, Kurt sort of thought he'd imagined it. Maybe he'd dreamed up the Blaine who he'd high-fived over breaking stereotypes in Breadstix. Maybe this was the real Blaine.

And then 'Baby, it's Cold Outside' happened, and there was the Blaine Kurt knew from Breadstix. There was the Blaine who drove two hours from Dalton to Lima to help and comfort a boy he'd met two days ago. That Blaine visited Kurt in his dorm room nearly every night and talked to him until he was in serious danger of missing curfew.

The Blaine he saw during the day was a silent, distant shell of the Blaine he got to know when the two were alone.

The most disturbing thing was, Kurt couldn't really tell which one was the real Blaine.

The strange thing was, Wes and David were less formal with him in public than Blaine was. He'd thought at first that, oh my god, Wes and David were going to hate him forever, but they'd warmed up to him after a few meets. After realizing that Kurt wasn't pulling a Vocal Adrenaline and going all Jesse St. James on them.

And they were great guys, once Kurt got to know them. Yes, maybe Wes had a strange dependency on his gavel and yes, maybe David's enthusiastic displays of affection for Wes left Kurt questioning the heteronormativity of their relationship, but they were really good and fairly hilarious guys, once Kurt got to know them.

At least, neither of them seemed to have a multiple personality disorder.

Blaine constantly baffled him. How could the Blaine who nodded politely to him as he passed him in the hallway be the same Blaine as the one who paced around Kurt's room, ranting for hours about the Westboro Baptist Church, or the same Blaine as the one who made Kurt laugh so hard over his Kermit the Frog impressions that he was crying?

"You're quiet," Blaine observed, from his position on the floor.

Yet another odd quirk of Blaine's that only ever seemed to come out when they were alone. Blaine always sat on the floor. He refused desks and beds. In fact, he was semi-partial to sitting _underneath_ the desks and beds, which he would definitely be doing right now, if Kurt's bed wasn't too low and if Kurt wasn't using his desk.

"I'm just thinking," Kurt said, quietly, pausing the Sound of Music soundtrack and swiveling to look at Blaine.

Blaine placed a careful bookmark into his book (he had such a bizarre respect for books- he was the only person Kurt knew who absolutely refused to dog-ear pages), and set his eyes on Kurt, giving him his undivided attention.

Kurt _loved _that. It was the only thing that stayed constant about Blaine. Even when they were out in public, in front of the other Warblers, when Kurt spoke, Blaine would be paying attention to nothing else. Kurt really wasn't used to that, after having been in New Directions for so long. He was used to Rachel not listening to a word he said (that is, if he could get in a word edgewise), Brittany spacing when he talked, the guys ignoring him because, as Artie told him once, his girlish voice set up an automatic defense mechanism in guys that meant they tuned him out.

He liked to pretend that Artie hadn't meant that as offensively as it came out.

Blaine listened. He really listened, and Kurt wasn't used to that.

"Kurt?" Blaine prompted gently, when Kurt didn't say anything.

"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?"

_Why_ couldn't Kurt hold in his own thoughts? What was wrong with him? Blaine was so definitely going to take it the wrong way, and it was going to be like the time he asked Rachel if there was anything in her closet besides American Girl Doll skirts and sweaters with animals on them.

Blaine wasn't freaking, though. He sort of rolled his body from its laying-down position until he was sitting, cross-legged, and staring at Kurt. "I'm sorry, what?"

So polite. All the time.

"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" Kurt asked again, a little more confidently, a little more fiercely.

"I don't know what you-"

"Because I have no idea what to think about you!" Kurt said, waving his arms in a way that sort of reminded him of Rachel when she got crazy. "You are so _robotic_ and _polite_, and... and... _dapper_! And then I get you alone and you're a geek who'd rather sit on the floor and swears that Sweeney Todd is the best musical ever- which is _really creepy_, but at least you seem like an actual person!"

He wasn't even sure if what he was saying was making any sense.

Blaine seemed to be pondering his words, though, from the way that his head was tipped to the side. "So, what you're saying is- I have a different personality with you than with the rest of the school?"

"Yes!" Kurt cried. "And it's really freaking confusing, because you're so awesome when we're hanging out, but then I pass you in the hall and I start to say hi and you cut me off with a polite smile and a nod."

He saw Blaine's adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"Is it- I don't know, are you ashamed of being friends with me? Am I your secret friend, or something?"

He was getting worked up, and he knew it, because he could feel the blush making its way up the back of his neck and across his ears and cheekbones.

"Kurt, _no_," said Blaine, earnestly, rising up on his knees and coming forward to clutch at his hands. "Just hear me out, okay? Just listen to me."

Kurt nodded slightly.

"I'm-" Blaine didn't seem to know where to start. He laughed a little awkwardly to himself, then attempted to start again. "I'm a little repressed, in case you didn't notice, Kurt." His head rose a little, his eyes meeting Kurt's, and he offered up a slight smile. "I've gone to Dalton for a few years, now, and I'm used to being surrounded by _guys_ all the time. Granted, some of them are gay, but most of them are straight. And most of them are not interested in listening to me complain about the unfairness of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell', or Ohio's stance on Gay Marriage, simply because it doesn't apply to them. Nor do they wish to hear me gush about Patti LuPone or Barbara Streisand.

"I didn't even like football before I came to Dalton, did you know that? But everyone- nearly everyone- here are Buckeyes fans, and that was the easiest way to fit in. I learned all the rules and once I had them all figured out, I walked past a couch in the sophomore commons where two guys were seated and dropped a casual remark about the Buckeyes' season. And that's how Wes and David became my best friends.

"Then I met you, Kurt, and you are pretty much the opposite of every guy here, and I _loved_ that. I really did. I love your sense of humor and your snarky one-liners and your fashion sense. I love that you're not afraid to be who you are, even when you were bullied beyond belief because of it. And I love that I can finally be that side of me that loves musicals and _Vogue_ and weird Japanese anime- don't laugh- because you'll just accept me. Because you've never had to conform to fit a role, because your Glee Club, as dysfunctional as you say they are, they accept you. For exactly who you are."

His eyes refused to meet Kurt's anymore, and for a moment Kurt could only sit in shocked silence, thinking over Blaine's words.

"You don't think the Warblers will accept you for who you are?"

"They are comfortable with me because I fit in with them. I'm not flamboyant- even if I'd like to be- and I don't _act_ gay. Or at least, what they'd consider gay."

Kurt laughed. "Blaine, I'm the gayest person you'll probably ever meet."

"Don't-" Blaine began to protest, but Kurt shushed him.

"Blaine, I have a collection of _tiaras_ in my _hope chest_. I wear girl's pants. I get a manicure once a month, and I spend a good hour taking care of my skin each night. I would be a walking stereotype if I didn't also have the compulsive need to fix broken cars, and if I didn't take Taekwondo."

Blaine lifted his head. "You take Taekwondo?"

"It's a secret. It's also not the point of what I'm trying to tell you."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

"It's _okay_ to be yourself, Blaine," Kurt said, softly. "Just because the other guys don't want to talk about some of the things you want to talk about doesn't mean you should become a totally different person. In fact, I think people will like you a lot better if you're yourself, and don't try to act like that doesn't matter because I _know_ you have an obsession with people liking you."

Blaine looked like he didn't know what to say.

"Look, you don't have to babble on about Natalie Portman's cover dress from the latest issue of _Vogue_- which was fabulous, by the way- but you don't have to hide your stack of _Vogue_ under your bed like it's porn. Nobody will care that you read it. Nobody cares that I do."

"It's just- I've been at an all-boys' school for so long, I don't remember how to-"

"Let your freak flag fly?" Kurt let out a chuckle. "You _have _to get girlfriends, Blaine. As nice as it is to have guys who accept you and aren't constantly afraid to even touch you because they might catch the gay or you might get the wrong idea, you really just need girlfriends."

Blaine raised his eyebrows.

"Tell me something," Kurt said, a little defensively. "With exactly how many people can you discuss Ralph Lauren's new collection, or which Disney Princess is your favorite, or how good-looking Jake Gyllenhaal is?"

"Um." pink was creeping up Blaine's cheeks. "One."

"Me." Kurt didn't say it as a question. "Do you know how many I have?"

"How many?" Blaine asked, looking like he didn't really want to hear the answer.

"Seven." Kurt said. "You. Quinn, Brittany, Santana, Tina, Rachel, Mercedes." He smiled a little. "As much as I love my Dalton friends, they'll never _get _me in the way that those girls do."

"I am so confused right now," Blaine said, burying his face in his hands and rocking back on his heels, away from Kurt.

"That's totally normal," Kurt said, soothingly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "I'm sure I'm not helping much. I've given you too much to think about. Do you need to be alone."

At this, Blaine looked up. "That is the _last_ thing I need right now," he said, and Kurt was surprised at the fierceness in his voice.

An idea struck Kurt, and he stood up. "I'm going out in the hallway to make a call," he said, softly, touching the top of Blaine's head. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

Blaine looked confused. "It's only four. You never call your dad this early."

"I need some advice," Kurt lied, before picking his phone up from beside his laptop and slipping into the hallway. He leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and trying to breathe.

_Everything_ was coming out wrong. He had his thoughts all organized in his head- what he wanted to say, what he was trying to say- and yet, when he spoke out loud, everything withered and died and made absolutely no sense. He knew when he'd first arrived at Dalton that he'd have a difficult time being _himself_ at an all-boys school- because, honestly, he really _was_ the definition of 'let your freak flag fly'- but somehow, he'd still made some really good friends and he was even close with Wes and David.

He sighed, sliding his phone out of his pocket, and hit number three on speed-dial.

He slid back into his room about fifteen minutes later to find Blaine exactly where he'd left him, crouching on the floor and staring at Kurt's navy blue throw rug with an expression Kurt couldn't quite decipher. He was rocking back and forth on his heels and humming something to himself.

Kurt was really starting to believe in his previous bipolar statement, as Blaine suddenly turned his face up to him, a broad smile covering it. It would be more suspicious if the smile hadn't quite reached his eyes.

"You're right," Blaine said.

"I-excuse me?" said Kurt, completely taken aback.

"I've been a bit of a douchebag, haven't I?" he asked, running a hand through his perfectly gelled hair. With the combination of the sudden mood swing and the curse word, it was only understandable that Kurt was rendered incapable of speech.

"Actually, everyone at Dalton is sort of a douchebag," Blaine said, thoughtfully, rising to his feet to pace around the room. "_God_, is everyone here hiding under masks, or is it just me?"

"There is an awful lot of repression around here," Kurt murmured. "It's rather unnerving."

He spun quickly to face Kurt, nearly falling over in the process. Kurt raised an eyebrow. Blaine had never been the most graceful person- it was endearingly human.

"I sort of feel like singing. For- for no reason," Blaine said, a slight look of wonder in his eyes.

"Welcome to the world of human emotions, Blaine," Kurt said, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth up. "You're in Glee Club. Of course you feel like singing."

"What is New Directions like?" Blaine asked, sitting on Kurt's bed and folding his legs underneath him.

Kurt, a little baffled both by the topic change and by Blaine actually sitting on something comfortable rather than the floor, merely blinked.

Blaine looked at him, patiently.

Kurt sighed, then went to sit on the bed beside him, keeping a safe distance between them. He honestly didn't think he could be too close to Blaine at the moment. There was too much confusion all gathered up in the last hour.

"New Directions," Kurt started, quietly, "is spontaneous. There is no organization and no counsel and no gavel. We burst into song when we feel like it, and we sing our feelings. Couples make up and break up more times than I can count. But it's wonderful. Loud." He chuckled. "When I told you I was used to having to shout to get myself noticed, I wasn't speaking metaphorically. Most of Glee practice is spent listening to Rachel."

"Tell me about her," Blaine said, leaning against a pillow but keeping his dark eyes fixed on Kurt. "Tell me about all of them. I want to know."

"Rachel Berry," Kurt started, with a wry smile, "is the biggest diva I've ever met. She's annoying and loud and has absolutely no filter and her wardrobe makes me want to claw my own eyes out on a regular basis. And I used to really hate her. But underneath that greedy, unfashionable shell, she's a nice person and she _cares_ about the Glee club. She's also the best female singer I've ever met."

Kurt thought for a minute. "There's Sam, who's new, but he's I think the nicest guy in McKinley. Or at least, the least homophobic. He knew I was gay and that it could tarnish his reputation and he still wasn't afraid to sing a duet with me."

"That sounds like Sam," Blaine said, a fond smile stretched across his face.

_What?_ "Wait, what?"

"Sam went to Dalton," Blaine said, arching an eyebrow. "He transferred last semester, the start of school. I didn't know him well, but he was always really easy going. And Wes was good friends with him."

"He's dating Quinn Fabray," Kurt continued, "She's had a tough time of it- she was president of the Celibacy Club and dating Finn last year when she got pregnant- with Puck's baby."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up.

"Her water broke at Regionals."

Blaine was pretty sure his eyebrows were at the top of his skull.

"Puck is the badass of the group, but I know he's a big softie on the inside. He was really upset when I transferred, and he used to be the main person to toss me into dumpsters."

"Toss you into-" Blaine appeared to be choking on the words.

Kurt waved a hand. "McKinley High tradition. It's not that bad, besides the smell. Anyway, Finn always let me take my more expensive pieces off beforehand."

"Finn did it too?" the look on Blaine's face was enraged. It was possibly the first time Kurt had ever seen him angry like that.

"Don't get angry," Kurt mumbled, looking away from Blaine. "You wouldn't understand."

Blaine clenched his jaw. "Fine."

"Well, there's Mercedes, you know her," Kurt continued, tipping his head back lazily to stare at the red velvet draperies strung across the ceiling.

"Mmm," Blaine hummed, to indicate that he was listening.

"She's my best friend in the whole world... she's like my Wes and David," he said, grinning slightly. "She's fierce and fabulous and beautiful. And always true to herself, which is what I love the most about her.

"Tina's the Asian one. She used to fake a stutter so people would leave her alone, but now she's much more outgoing. She has a very pretty singing voice and is a great dancer. She talks fashion with me. She's goth.

"And then there's Santana. She's a bitch, she really is, but she has her moments. She said she was going to 'cut a bitch' when she found out about Karofsky threatening to kill me. And she cares a lot about Brittany.

"Brittany- well. I can't describe her. She's a cheerleader, like Santana, and she changes sexual partners more quickly than Santana does, but- none of us really have any idea what's going on in Brittany's head."

Blaine cocked his head.

"She told me for Halloween, she was going as a Peanut Allergy," Kurt explained.

"Ah."

Kurt felt Blaine's hand sort of slip into his, and he didn't attempt to pull away. Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but Blaine's hand was so warm and it felt so good, so different than holding hands with Mercedes and Quinn and Tina.

"And, uh, Finn. Well, you know about him. He's my stepbrother now. He's a lot better than he used to be. He was somewhat homophobic. He's so much better now- almost over-enthusiastic, like he's trying to make up for how he acted towards me before. He's so over-excited about having a brother." Kurt smiled fondly.

"Artie- the one in the wheelchair- I don't spend a lot of time with, but he's a really nice guy. And he's a great singer, too. Mike, he doesn't talk a lot- he's the other Asian- but he's a nice guy and an incredible dancer. Those two were the first ones to stand up for me against Karofsky in the locker room, which lead to them being beaten up."

Blaine's grip tightened around Kurt's.

"And that's all of them," Kurt concluded, casually wriggling his fingers out of Blaine's.

"They sound so different from the Warblers," Blaine mused, seeming to not notice Kurt's obvious discomfort with their closeness.

"They are," Kurt said, quietly, crossing the room to pull out his laptop. He gestured to it. "Do you mind? I need to finalize some research for my History report."

"You must have Dr. Halloway," Blaine said, knowingly. "By all means, go ahead."

The room was silent for nearly an hour aside from the humming of Kurt's laptop and the sounds of Blaine turning pages in his book.

Kurt's phone buzzed, and he slid a finger across the screen to unlock it and look at the text.

**MERCEDES:** Outside. Santana sped like hell to get us here on time. How we gonna do this?

**KURT: **1 minute, stay where you are.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and looked at Blaine, whose eyes were closed, his face resting on the open book.

"Have you ever broken the rules before?"

Blaine's eyelids cracked. "Not major rules, no."

Kurt grinned at him. "There's a first time for everything."

**A/N: CHRIS FUCKING COLFER WON THE GOLDEN GLOBE.**

**.**

**So this was going to be a oneshot. But there was way too much plot for a oneshot, strangely enough.**

**I have NO idea how many chapters this will be. I really don't. **


	2. Masks

** A/N: Quite, the title is indeed from the Modest Mouse song. I love Modest Mouse :D**

** As for the reviews I got about Klaine not happening, here are my thoughts regarding that subject.**

** I realized that what spoilers we've received have a less than positive outcome for Klaine. However, we've also seen some spoilers with _very_ positive outcomes for Klaine. At this point, I think we all know that Ryan Murphy and Chris Colfer (and Darren Criss, to an extent) enjoy trolling. Do I believe any of the rumors to be 100% true? No. I won't believe anything is true until I see it on screen, and even then, so many things are iffy.**

** Don't you all remember Finnchel? It took until _Regionals_ for them to finally sort out their problems and just admit their love for each other. I'm listening to "Baby, it's Cold Outside" as I write this and I honestly believe that Klaine is going to happen. But what sort of romance would it be without setback? We need a little dramatic tension. On Glee, the _best_ ships don't happen without buildup. An absurd amount of buildup. If we had the patience to wait for Finnchel (which may not be everyone's cup of tea, but seems to me to be pretty solid endgame), can't we have the patience to wait for Klaine?**

** Right now, what we know is that Kurt finally has someone to understand him, and I honestly think that (no matter what his feelings for Blaine are) that's what he needs right now. It's great that Ryan Murphy _isn't_ showing Kurt rushing into a relationship with the first gay guy he meets. This is the first time Kurt will have a relationship (disregarding his brief relationship with Brittany) and he needs to take it slow, and Ryan Murphy seems to understand that.**

** We already know Kurt and Blaine have amazing on-screen chemistry; that much was proven with "Baby, it's Cold Outside" and "Teenage Dream" and even the Breadstix scene. Ryan Murphy didn't throw that in for no reason, believe me (I'm a Film Production and Cinematography major, I know these things). The writers very much think and plan out every song for every character. They could have had any of the couples on the show sing that duet, or had Kurt and Blaine sing another duet, but they chose that pairing with that duet for a _reason_. There were plenty of flirty and romantic moments between Finn and Rachel the whole time before they got together, as well as with Will and Emma (and I also personally believe that they are endgame as well, no matter my feelings on that subject). I can't wait to see what development Ryan Murphy throws into Blaine's character and the Klaine dynamic that will turn Blaine from an angel incarnate to an actual human being with flaws (other than his slight repression).**

** My speculation for these upcoming episodes? None. I make no predictions, because I would rather the Glee writers simply do their magic. I will enjoy their genius, while I sit back and write my own AU fanfiction that couldn't ever measure up.**

**xxxx**

** That said, this story is already pretty obviously AU. It most likely will not follow the storyline of the rest of Season 2, although it will follow up to and including a Very Glee Christmas. At this point, Blaine has not come to terms with his feelings for Kurt. He has no idea where these strange thoughts are coming from and is doing his best to quash them. I have no idea where this development is going (lies- I have a few ideas). If the Klaine onscreen gets depressing, rest assured that I and my fellow Klainers will be here for you to receive solace from in the form of fanfiction.**

** Holy shit, long author's note, I'm very sorry. My humble apologies.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, Darren Criss, or Chris Colfer. Or any of the six lovely ladies portrayed within this fic.**

"No _way, _Kurt," Blaine said, firmly, pulling him to the side. "This is breaking about _ten_ Dalton rules."

"If we get caught," Kurt reminded him. "Which we won't. Besides, you need to let loose once in a while. A little rebellion is good for you."

"This isn't rebellion, this is _insanity,_" Blaine hissed, darting a quick glance over to where Quinn was pulling a on a dark red fedora to cover up her long blond hair. "We're going to get caught."

"Only if you tell on us," Kurt said, winking, "and you won't, because you're going to be with us."

"How the hell," said Blaine, evenly, "are you going to hide six teenage girls in your room? You have a single room. You're going to get _caught_."

"Which is where you come in," Kurt said, cheerfully, tossing Rachel a Dalton regulation sweater vest. "We're staying in your room. You said your roommate is gone for the weekend, right?" he didn't wait for any form of confirmation. "So I'll go back to my room at about 9:50 for curfew, and then I'll sneak back to yours."

"Why are you doing this?" Blaine asked, quietly.

Kurt smiled gently. "Blaine, you have no idea what it's like to have friends you can be _you_ with. Even if they can't completely understand who you are."

"We're ready," Tina sang, and all of the girls started giggling.

"None of you could ever pass for a boy," Kurt said, disapprovingly. "So don't ever cross-dress."

"It's enough for you to get us up to the dorms, though," Quinn said, shoving wisps up hair up into her cap.

"Lead the way," Kurt said to Blaine, gesturing ahead of him.

Blaine was taken aback when the tall blond (wearing a red and white cheerleading skirt with her borrowed Dalton sweater- as if _that_ wasn't a dead giveaway) looped her arm through his.

"Hi," she beamed at him.

"Hi?" he sort of recognized her- he thought she might be the one who'd been doing the crazy dance moves last time he'd seen their group.

"Are you Kurt's boyfriend?" she asked, seriously.

He shot a quick glance behind him, but the boy in question was currently happily chatting with Mercedes and didn't appear to have heard.

"No," he said, quietly, "I'm not."

"But do you want to be?"

"I don't know."

"Do you like boys?"

Blaine had to laugh a little. "Yes."

"Like Kurt likes boys? Because Kurt's gay."

"Yes, like Kurt likes boys."

"Then why don't you want to date Kurt?" she asked, tilting her head. "He was a really good boyfriend. He took me shopping and held my hand and didn't ask me to have sex with him."

"Wait, you dated Kurt?"

"He's a really good kisser, too."

"You dated _Kurt_?"

"He sang a Mellencamp song. It was really hot."

Blaine really didn't know a lot about Kurt, he realized. Much less than he thought he knew. Kurt had seemed so sure of himself every time Blaine saw him, so confident in his sexuality. Was it possible he'd been in the closet for longer than Blaine thought?

Brittany smiled. "I think you should date him. He hadn't ever had a boyfriend."

"I know," Blaine said quietly.

Kurt jumped into their conversation then, and they arrived at Blaine's door soon after. He dug out the tiny gold key on his Dalton keychain and unlocked the door, gesturing them inside.

The room wasn't exactly huge- not with two beds in it- but it wasn't small, either. It was larger than Kurt's single room, and larger than the average college dorm room, but smaller than Blaine's room at home.

Blaine moved to start the heater, and the New Directions girls piled their bags on Andrew's bed and settled themselves on the floor. He watched as Kurt tugged Tina against him, threading his fingers through her hair and asking if she'd been using the leave-in conditioner he'd recommended. He expressed admiration for Santana's manicure, and poked a little fun at Mercedes' camouflage pants.

Maybe Blaine didn't really know Kurt, he thought, as he stalled by pretending to struggle with the radiator, but he was getting to. Just by seeing him with the New Directions girls. It didn't matter how nice the Dalton boys were to him, the New Directions girls were his family.

He'd wanted Kurt to be happy at Dalton_ so _badly. He'd done everything he could to welcome him.

Or, had he?  
Rachel and Mercedes were telling a story with wild hand gestures, stopping every few minutes to laugh uproariously and wipe their eyes. Kurt was laughing hard, his hand over his eyes, his other arm linked with Quinn's.

Kurt had been right, before. The two of them didn't have that. The instant, easy camaraderie. They could have it. There were flashes of it- in Breadstix, in Baby, it's Cold Outside. Blaine closed himself up, though.

Kurt looked up, still grinning. "Blaine, come here."

Blaine smiled, a little hesitantly, and moved to sit beside Mercedes, the only one he actually sort of knew. He'd have preferred to sit beside Kurt, but with Tina attached to one side and Quinn to the other, there really was no room.

"So you're Blaine." Quinn leaned forward, her chin balancing on her hand. Her gaze was somehow simultaneously unnerving and reassuring. She had that "head-bitch-in-charge" look about her.

Kurt smiled at him, and Blaine swallowed, forcing his eyes from Kurt's lips to Quinn's face. "Yes."

"You've got a good voice," Rachel admitted, looking as if it pained her to do so.

"Thank you," he said, shooting her a hopeful smile. He turned back to Quinn. "You have a very lovely voice- both of you," he added, glancing at Santana, whose mouth quirked up a little. "Kurt couldn't stop talking about your voices. You all have so much talent."

"Are you always this formal?" Quinn asked, lifting her eyebrows. "I feel like I'm having dinner with my grandparents."

Kurt elbowed her. "Be nice. He's like this with anyone he doesn't know well."

"He knows me," Mercedes offered.

Kurt lifted an eyebrow. "Barely."

They exchanged a look Blaine didn't understand, and Mercedes offered a sheepish smile.

"Excuse me," Blaine said defensively, "but after the stories Kurt has told me, I can't help but be a little intimidated."

Rachel folded her arms. "Kurt, what have you told him?"

"Do you really have that much _drama_?" Blaine asked.

"And you don't?" Santana appeared to be genuinely surprised.

"Of course we do." Blaine backpedaled. "Just um... not relationship drama, if you know what I mean."

Santana perked up. "So you're not all gay here?"

Blaine chuckled. "It's a minority, just as it is at McKinley and everywhere else in the world."

"Kurt's the only gay one at McKinley," Tina said, confused.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "You can't honestly believe that."

"What do you mean?" Mercedes asked.

"I mean, you can't honestly think that Kurt's the only gay at McKinley. A small minority of people are homosexual, but not _that_ small. It's doubtful that Kurt was the only gay guy at McKinley."

Tina was staring at him as if she didn't quite know what to make of him.

"I always told the teachers that," Kurt said, smirking. "I always emphasized that I was the only _out_ gay at McKinley, because they all seemed to think I was the only one. Because really, if there were any more gays, why _wouldn't_ they be out of the closet? The school was so welcoming to me."

Blaine frowned at him a little, recognizing the bitter edge to his biting sarcasm. The other girls didn't appear to.

"Of course," said Rachel. "That must be true. My dads always say-"

"You have two dads?" Blaine interrupted, surprised.

Rachel nodded, raising an eyebrow.

"As in, two gay dads?"

Rachel nodded again, clearly confused.

"And you didn't at least attempt to understand or help with what Kurt was going through? Or take action in any way?"

Kurt had his lips pursed, looking as if he couldn't really decide whether or not to stop Blaine.

"Let me get this straight." Blaine smiled a little internally because of the pun. "You consider Kurt one of your own, like a brother, and you love him and want to protect him. Yet you do nothing to protect him from bullies like Karofsky, even though you could easily ask either one of your dads to step in- they're probably active members of the ACLU, am I right?"

"Blaine-" Kurt tried.

"I had Finn say something-"

"Oh, and I'm sure _that _helped," said Blaine acerbically. "Having Kurt's previously homophobic and somewhat wimpy stepbrother step in and say something? That probably only made things worse for both of them, am I right?"

"Finn didn't say anything," Tina said, quietly. "Artie and Sam and Mike did."

"And how did that work out for them?" Blaine arched an eyebrow and folded his arms, waiting for an answer. He got none. "That's what I thought. Please excuse me for a moment, ladies. Kurt."

He stood up slowly, very aware that he was nearly shaking with anger, that his nails were digging into his palms and would probably leave bruises. He stepped out of the room, letting the door swing shut behind him, and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

He already knew Kurt had followed him out of the room before he even opened his eyes. "Kurt, I admit that while they generally seem like lovely, though somewhat misguided, girls, I really don't understand how you can claim that they get you."

"Blaine, not everyone knows what it's like," Kurt said, softly. "Not everybody is Wes and David. You're lucky to have two best friends that actually understand judgment and ridicule and have no problem with being physically affectionate- for guys, I mean. But do they really _get_ you, Blaine?" Kurt shook his head.

"But your friends-" Blaine sighed. "They just stood there, while all of that happened to you."

"Nobody has a perfect friend. Everyone has their flaws, that's what makes us human. Quinn took so long in even _accepting _me. Did you notice the cross she wears? She had to go against everything she knew and everything she'd been taught to be my friend." He nudged Blaine a little. "Mercedes was the first person I ever came out to and she told me it was okay, even though I was scared out of my mind. Give them a chance, please? They're flawed, yes, but so are we."

Blaine smiled softly. "You're right, of course. I'm just as imperfect as they are- I'm sorry. I just get- angry."

Kurt shrugged. "And I get jealous. We all have our flaws." He reached out to take Blaine's hand, and something strange happened to Blaine's spine when he did.

"Could you at least give them a chance, for me?" Kurt smiled hopefully. "I know they haven't left the best first impression on you, but they're my friends."

"I'm having a hard time with Rachel Berry," Blaine admitted. "Usually I want to help people and make them feel better and have them understand the error of their ways. I just want to be away from her."

Kurt chuckled a little. "Welcome to the world of human emotion, Blaine. It's called dislike. Sometimes 'hate', in a more severe forms."

"I _never_ felt like this towards my bullies," Blaine said, in a sort of state of wonder.

"Yes, well, you are an astoundingly empathetic person. I have noticed that Rachel seems to cancel out that feeling in most people, though," Kurt said, shrugging. "Come on."

He led Blaine back into the room, who took care to this time snag a seat very close to Kurt and as far away from Rachel as possible.

"I apologize for my behavior," he said politely to Rachel. It was possibly the most insincere apology he'd ever given, but Blaine had always been good at lying. "I shouldn't have gotten upset at you."

"You had every right to." It wasn't Rachel who spoke, but Mercedes. "You're right. I'm Kurt's best friend, I should've known what he was going through."

This instantly endeared her to him. He smiled. "Thank you."

"To be honest, I didn't really like you at first," said Mercedes, shooting a quick glance at Kurt, who had frozen. "You sort of took up all of Kurt's time and I didn't like that. But we're cool now."

"My apologies," Blaine said formally, nodding.

"Seriously, what _are_ you?" Santana asked, watching him closely.

"He's messing with you," Kurt said, shooting a warning eyebrow-raise at Blaine.

Brittany reached over to hold Kurt's hand. "Kurt, tell us about your school. Are the boys here cute? Have you been locked in the dungeon yet?"

Blaine blinked a little.

The rest of the group seemed unfazed. "She thinks it's a castle," Tina whispered, by way of explanation.

"Are you getting any boy kisses?" Brittany asked, squeezing Kurt's hand.

Both Blaine and Kurt choked at the same time.

Santana snorted. "Well, they're not getting any action from each other, that's for sure."

"I've been on a date or two," Kurt admitted, and Blaine's head snapped up. Why hadn't Kurt mentioned this during any of their late night study sessions?

Tina and Quinn clapped excitedly, Rachel squealed into her hands, and Santana leaned in with a predatory look on her face.

"Tell us everything," Mercedes demanded.

"His name was Dean-"

_"McMillan_?" Blaine asked in astonishment. All the girls turned to look at him. "I didn't even know he was gay!"

"He's not." Kurt shrugged. "Bisexual."

"Hot," said Santana. "Did you get any action?"

Oh my god, Blaine so did not want to hear this.

"No," said Kurt, the tips of his ears turning pink. "He-uh- wasn't my type."

Santana laughed. "So he wasn't a jock who didn't have the brains to tie his shoelaces together?"

"I resent that," Rachel snapped.

"You would, hobbit," Santana snapped back.

"Okay, I don't only like stupid jocks," Kurt protested. "Contrary to popular belief, I _don't_ have a superiority complex. At least not when it comes to intelligence."

"Are you saying you're not attracted to big, hulking athletes with little to no brain cells who could easily pin you down and-"

"_Okay_, Santana," Blaine said, sharply, seeing the panic flashing across Kurt's eyes. God, these girls may have had no idea what had gone down between Kurt and Karofsky, but _really. _

"Thank you," Kurt mumbled to the floor.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Quinn clapped her hands. "Kurt, you never finished telling us about your date!"

"He took me to the little Italian place over on State Street," Kurt mumbled, steadfastly avoiding Blaine's eyes.

"Is he a good kisser?" Brittany asked eagerly, and the other girls pressed in even more tightly.

Oh god, Blaine really wasn't ready to hear this. He had no idea why, but hearing Kurt talk about making out with another guy- willingly- made him feel sick to his stomach.

"I wouldn't know," Kurt said evenly, folding his hands primly.

"You didn't even kiss him?" Tina asked, clearly surprised.

Kurt put on his best "bitch-please" face and stared at Tina. "Would you, if you'd had as bad a time as I did?"

"Ooh, what happened?" Quinn asked, rubbing his arm sympathetically.

"After I told him all about singing and the Warblers, he asked me what I was _really _going to do with my life," Kurt said dryly.

Blaine winced.

"He did _not,_" Rachel said, looking scandalized.

Kurt shook his head, faux-mournfully. "He had so much potential. He was a big Gaga fan."

"He can't be a true Gaga fan and ask you what you're going to do with your life, as if singing wasn't a perfectly reasonable aspiration," said Rachel.

"Has he _heard_ your voice?" Tina asked.

"So what did you do?" Quinn asked.

"I fended off his goodnight kiss at my door, and spent the rest of the night on my bed watching _A Walk to Remember_ and trying to convince myself that I won't be alone for the rest of my life." Kurt said it in an absurdly chipper tone, which was concerning to Blaine.

What was more concerning was that the rest of the girls (sans Brittany, who appeared to have fallen asleep in Santana's lap) laughed.

"You won't be, you know," Blaine said, and all eyes turned to him. "Alone, you know." He didn't know why he did, he just needed to reassure Kurt.

Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling fondly, and placed a hand on Blaine's knee. "I was being sarcastic, Blaine. Making a joke? You don't always have to go all mentor on me, okay?"

Blaine could feel his neck going red as a few of the girls giggled. "Oh," he said, finally.

Kurt didn't take his hand off of Blaine's knee.

Tina quickly jumped into a new subject, telling Kurt about her woes with her equally-as-Asian boyfriend. Blaine zoned as Kurt made noises of sympathy and clicked his tongue at appropriate moments in her storytelling.

His thumb was rubbing back and forth across Blaine's kneecap. Was that intentional? Was it conscious? Blaine was starting to feel- quite literally- hot under the collar. He reached up to tug a little on his tie to loosen it.

Santana was smirking at him like she knew something. What could she possibly know? He felt his mouth twitch, a little crack in his armor. _Shit._ He tried even harder to keep a straight face.

Kurt's fingers were light, gentle- barely touching through the fabric of his pants. They twirled intricate designs on his knee, but never ventured higher.

Where did _that_ thought come from?

He didn't have time to ponder over that particular thought, because Kurt snatched his hand away and leapt up (gracefully, of course- Kurt did everything gracefully).

"Is that the time?" he yelped. "I have to get back to my room or I'm _screwed_."

He offered them all a wave as he hurried out of the room.

"Is he... coming back?" Quinn asked uncertainly.

Blaine nodded. "He has to swipe his ID card with the Hall Monitor. Usually we just check in at the front lobby before bed, but it's Saturday night, so we have individual room checks to make sure that we aren't doing anything we're not supposed to- oh, like having girls in our rooms."

Five pairs of eyes stared at him unblinkingly, and Blaine suppressed a sigh. Kurt was really the only one besides Liam who had the same sense of humor as Blaine.

Santana was the one to break the silence. "So are there any yummy boys around here I could get my hands on?" she asked, just as a knock sounded on the door.

Everyone froze.

"Blaine?" Wes' voice called. "Mark's sick so I got saddled with Hall duty tonight. Can I come in?"

"Hold on a second," Blaine called back, trying not to sound panicked as he ushered the girls into various hiding spots, "I'm- changing," he offered wildly.

Wes snorted. "Hah. That's what the guys always say when they're trying to hide their girlfriends."

There was a moment of silence in which Brittany stifled a giggle, then Wes said quickly, "Oh, god, Blaine, _Kurt_ isn't in there, is he?"

Blaine rolled his eyes as he threw pajama pants on over his Dalton uniform, then unbuttoned his shirt and cast aside his tie. "Wes. Think logically about this. You _just_ checked on Kurt. He's literally five doors down. Would it be possible for him to be in my room?"

"Right," Wes said, sheepishly.

Blaine slipped off his shoes, glanced around the room quickly, and went to open the door. He dangled his ID card in front of Wes' face. "I promise I'm not having any gay sleepovers. Satisfied?"

Wes stared at him as if he'd seen a ghost, and Blaine realized too late that that particular brand of humor was Kurt's, and not his.

"Well, this has been sufficiently awkward," Blaine said, after a moment. "I'll just-"

"What are those?" Wes interrupted.

Blaine turned to see what Wes was looking at, and nearly groaned out loud. Brittany's innocent white tennis shoes, arranged neatly side-by-side on his carpet.

Blaine just smiled at Wes, hoping he wouldn't question any more.

"Are those girls' shoes?"

"I _am_ gay," Blaine said. Kurt would be proud.

"You're not _that _gay, though," Wes said. "And those are way too small for you."

"Going the Cinderella route," Blaine said. He was met with a blank stare. "You know, cutting off my toes to fit in the shoe?" still no response. "Seriously, am I the _only_ one who reads the original fairytales?"

If Kurt were here, Blaine thought, he would make some fantastically snarky comment about Blaine being the only one who reads _anything_, which, if Blaine's impression of Kurt's friends was correct, was entirely accurate.

He kind of regretted that Kurt wasn't there, actually. He would have been cute stumbling over himself to come up with a lie.

"Blaine," Wes said, evenly. "Tell me what's going on."

Blaine was the smoothest talker ever. He seriously was. He was once caught super gluing all the drawers in his least favorite teacher's desk shut and managed to not only get away without a detention, but he convinced the administrator who caught him that he was actually repairing the desk, and got a free-latte pass to the cafeteria for his efforts.

But this was Wes, who knew Blaine in a way that was almost scary, and Blaine knew that he was one of the few people who would see right through Blaine's smooth talking.

It didn't help that Brittany had crept out from Blaine's closet to retrieve her shoes with her hand slapped over her eyes, clearly operating under the "If I can't see you, you can't see me" delusion.

"Blaine," Wes said, evenly. "Please tell me I'm dreaming up the girl in the cheerleading uniform."

"Please tell me your dreams aren't really that kinky and don't involve me _or _my dorm," Blaine said, cheerfully, "because that's just a very disturbing thought."

_"Blaine."_

"It doesn't matter if _I_ have a girl in my room, right? Because I'm a flaming homosexual?"

"I could get in so much trouble for this," Wes said, staring wide-eyed at Mercedes and Tina, who had just peered around Andrew's closet doors. "There are more of you?"

"I haven't seen Wes, but he checked my room a little while ago so I'm assuming he's already checked yours-" came Kurt's voice, then it stopped.

Blaine turned to offer him a half-smile.

"Well, shit," Kurt said.

**A/N: yeah... I'm stopping it there.**

**I'm working on the next chapter, though, so no worries ;)**


	3. Results

**Abbylabby: I would be only too delighted to marry you. Let's make this a glee frikkin' wedding. **

**I also thought my long, drawn-out explanation of Klaine in the future was better than saying "KLAINE: IT'S ENDGAME, BITCHES". **

**Although that may have been effective as well.**

**ALSO, GUISE I HAVE A TUMBLR. I forgot to say that in my last one. Um. it's h t t p : / / well i still think . tumblr . c o m / ... just get rid of all dem spaces. feel free to follow me, like legit. I'll probably follow you back :D **

**WHO'S DYING OVER KLAINE ON THE COVER OF ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY?**

**I KNOW I AM!**

**spoilers...**

**RYAN FUCKING MURPHY SAID THEY WERE GOING TO BE A POWER COUPLE.**

**WITH COURTSHIP.**

**Courtship: (n) the act, period, or art of seeking the love of someone with intent to marry.**

**WHAT NOW.**

**Fucking canon, bitches. Chris Colfer, you were trolling us the WHOLE TIME.**

**Disclaimer: (don't own Glee)**

_Please, please be cool about this,_ Kurt found himself begging Wes in his mind. _I really cannot afford to get expelled._

"Blaine," said Wes again, who seemed unable to say anything _besides _his best friend's name.

Santana had that face on that Kurt always read as "chill the fuck out, guys, I got this," as she approached Wes, crooking a finger in his tie. "Hello," she almost purred, and if Kurt wasn't more refined than that he would've choked on his own saliva.

"Santana, he has a girlfriend," he said finally.

Santana cast him the quirked eyebrow that he took to mean "that's-never-stopped-me-before" or something of the sort, which was sort of true. Between Santana and Puck, there wasn't a single relationship in Glee that hadn't been touched by them in some way.

Besides Artie and Tina. For some reason, the two of them had never been affected by the homewreckers that were Puck and Santana.

Wes' face was actually highly amusing to watch. He seemed to have no idea how he could touch Santana to push her away without coming in contact with bare skin or certain body parts.

Tina and Quinn hurried to Kurt, wrapping their hands around his forearms, and turning worried faces to Wes.

Wes cast a glance over at them, then groaned. "Really? Gay guys _always_ get the girls."

Startled by the sudden display of humor given the situation, Kurt laughed.

"Animal magnetism," Blaine said smugly. "Because we're gay, we release twice as much testosterone."

Quinn blinked. "... please tell me that's not true."

"Blaine likes to make statistics up," Kurt confided.

"Blasphemy," Blaine said, throwing one of his hands up in a very gay finger-twinkling wave. "Wes, you won't tell, will you."

Wes blinked. "That you make statistics up?"

Blaine sighed. "We stopped talking about that, Wes," he said patiently. "I mean, that there are girls in here. Because Kurt and I are _gay_."

"There will be no orgies in here tonight," Kurt added.

"Can I paint your nails?" Brittany asked Wes brightly.

"I- what?"

"She's not kidding," Kurt confirmed solemnly when Wes looked to him for help.

"I don't really want my nails painted," Wes said helplessly as Brittany dragged him down to the floor and began to dig through her pockets for nail polish.

"Come on," said Kurt, a smirk covering his face. "Embrace your feminine side, Wes. It's not gay, it's just metrosexual. All the rock stars are doing it these days."

"Blaine?" Wes asked, turning his wide eyes to his friend.

Blaine was uncomfortable, Kurt could tell. He would ham it up all he wanted with Kurt and Wes when it involved sarcasm and jokes about heterosexual orgies, but he really couldn't handle something _this gay_- at least, not with Wes. He was himself with Kurt, and yes, that was wonderful, and he'd finally realized that he needed to shed a few layers of forced masculinity, but something like that couldn't just _happen_ within the course of a few hours. Especially not when he was faced with his best friend, who clearly had never seen Blaine like this.

He caught Blaine's eye and mouthed "courage", which elicited a smile from the other boy.

Blaine took a deep breath. "We were going to watch Easy A," he said politely. "Would you like to join us?"

Wes was too well brought up to react badly, but one of his eyebrows did arch. "Excuse me?"

"Blaine hasn't seen it," Kurt jumped in, wriggling out of Quinn and Tina's grasp so he could stride forward to squeeze Blaine's elbow. "So Mercedes suggested it."

The eyebrow went further up. "Are you going to paint each other's nails and talk about boys, too?" Wes asked, in not exactly a snide tone (Dalton boys didn't do snide), but in what was clearly a disapproving one.

"Pink or purple?" Brittany asked, holding up two violently colored nail polish bottles.

Wes winced.

"Blaine," Kurt said, carefully, watching Wes' face, "I left my DVD in my room. Could you run and get it?"

Blaine leapt up, an expression of relief clear on his face. "Sure."

Kurt waited until the door had clicked shut to turn his ice stare on Wes. Around him, the girls were mimicking his actions (besides Brittany, who was happily painting Wes' thumbnail fuchsia).

"Could you not?" Kurt snapped, folding his arms.

"What?" Wes cried.

"Don't you notice anything?" Kurt asked scathingly. "Or are you so wrapped up in Warbler-world that you can't even notice that your best friend is a totally different person around you verses around me?"

"I don't know what you mean," Wes said, stiffly.

"Of course you don't." Kurt moved to sit down beside him. "You wouldn't. And really, it's not your fault that he acts like that. It's _hard_ to be a gay guy in an all-boys school. Which is why he's so damn repressed."

Wes blinked a little. "Repressed?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "He shoves the gay part of him so far in the closet that it's almost like he's not even out. I mean, he is- but only in words. Do you know he has a stash of Vogue under his bed?" He smiled at the look on Wes' face. "I didn't think so. Do you care?"

"Of- of course not," Wes stumbled. "He's my best friend."

"So if he's really your best friend," said Kurt, "tonight you'll hang out with us, and let loose a little, and let Blaine act like himself. And you won't judge."

Wes looked appropriately abashed, Kurt decided. "Also, it would be really nice if you didn't get me expelled for sneaking girls in."

"Are you kidding?" Wes asked, a smile starting to appear on his face. "The most anyone has ever gotten away with at this school was _two_ girls, and that was when I was a sophomore, and he was caught. You're going to be legendary, man. Sneaking six girls in? That's beyond impressive."

Kurt saw Santana and Brittany high-five out of the corner of his eye.

"I'll be the envy of every guy here," Kurt joked, nudging Wes' shoulder with his.

"And I repeat, the gay guys _always_ get all the girls."

All of them were laughing when Blaine slipped back inside the room, clutching Kurt's DVD in his hand.

"What did I miss?" he asked, his eyes darting between Kurt and Wes. Kurt offered him a subtle thumbs-up, and Blaine's face visibly relaxed.

"Just saying nobody's snuck this many girls in since Alex Kingsby."

"He snuck in _two_," Blaine said, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his laptop.

"Exactly," said Quinn, with that mysterious smirk she wore so well.

"Kurt's going to be a legend," Mercedes said, settling on the floor next to Tina. "Going down in Dalton boy history."

"What a pimp," Blaine deadpanned, moving over to lean against the bed beside Kurt and Wes.

They all fell silent as the movie credits started, and Olive's voice took over.

Blaine's hand slipped into Kurt's, and Kurt's eyes found Wes'. Wes offered a small smile, and Kurt found himself smiling too as he turned back to the laptop screen.

Things were going to change for Blaine.

When Kurt regained consciousness, it was to that bleary, confused feeling of waking up somewhere unfamiliar. The first thing he noticed was that his neck was at an awkward angle, yet he was somehow completely comfortable. This comfort seemed to be the cause of all the butterflies in his stomach, although he wasn't really sure how that worked. He could also hear soft voices. And someone's head was pressed against his shins.

He opened his eyes a crack to find that the room was completely dark, except for the glow of the LED clock on Blaine's bedside table that read 5:58 AM.

He tried to judge his surroundings without moving. He was lying in somebody's lap, he deduced, and based on the shape and size of the legs his face was pillowed on, it was either Wes or Blaine, most likely the latter.

_Definitely_ the latter, he decided, as he heard the soft murmuring of Blaine's voice, mingling with Tina's.

"He was right, though," Blaine was saying softly. "About all of it."

"Everyone has those times," Tina whispered. "I had to stop being myself when my principal thought I was a vampire because of how I dressed."

There was a pause. "He does know that vampires aren't real, doesn't he?" Blaine asked.

"Nevertheless, I ended up dressing like a cluster of bubbles for an entire week." There was another pause. "It's probably better if you don't ask."

"I figured."

"But the point is, I had to pretend to be something I wasn't to meet someone else's expectations of me. Mercedes has too, haven't you?"

"I was on the cheerleading team," Mercedes' voice said quietly, "and the coach wanted me to lose weight. I tried for a while, then I realized I was being someone I wasn't just to make someone else happy. So I quit."

"Are you suggesting I quit the Warblers?" Blaine asked, the panic evident in his voice.

"No," Tina's voice said. "We just think you should be yourself with them. Glee Club is supposed to be about expressing yourself."

"I'm trying." Blaine's voice dipped even lower, and Kurt had to strain to hear him. "He's helping."

"You're lucky to have him," Mercedes said, quietly. "He's a good friend. And he's really talented."

"Don't let him forget that, okay?" Tina said. "How good he is. Don't let him lose that. Or his individuality."

"Never," Blaine promised, and in the dark, Kurt's face curved into a smile.

xxxx

"Promise you'll text me when you see what she was wearing," Tina said to Blaine, shoving the last strand of blue hair under her hat. "I pulled up the site on your laptop, it's a few pictures back. You'll agree with me."

Blaine held up his phone and crossed his heart. Both of them laughed.

Mercedes kissed Kurt's cheek. "I miss you, boo."

"Oh, do not make me start crying," Kurt groaned, squeezing her tightly. "You'd think I'd be in heaven in a school with nothing but boys in blazers- in fact, I think I might have had a couple dreams about something like that- but I need some _estrogen_ in my life. There are only so many conversations about Megan Fox's body that I can stand."

Quinn laughed and patted Kurt's cheek. "Oh, we've all missed you. Glee isn't the same."

Tina joined them, as Blaine wrapped his arms around Brittany in a good-bye hug. "Come on, Kurt has to sneak us out so nobody sees us."

"Au contraire, mon ami," Kurt said, offering her his arm. "I want _everyone_ to see you. Just no administrators."

"Take exit stairwell D," Wes suggested. He was trying particularly hard to avoid Santana's come-hither eyes. "Everyone uses that to get to breakfast faster, but none of the teachers do."

"Merci," Kurt said, and flounced from the room, giggling girls trailing after him.

In the sudden silence, Wes looked at Blaine. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast," Blaine agreed. "I think we should take stairwell D today. What say you, Wes?"

"Much agreed, Blaine," Wes said, pompously, and they followed Kurt down the stairs, mostly just to hear the aftermath of the girl hurricane that was currently sweeping down the stairs a level below them.

"_Six_ girls!" one boy bemoaned to his friend as he passed them going the opposite direction, and both Blaine and Wes hid their grins.

David didn't try to disguise his curiosity as they sat down across from him at their usual breakfast table. "Where the hell were you all last night?" he demanded, his eyes glued to Wes.

"Hall monitor duties," Wes said lightly, catching Blaine's eyes.

Blaine pulled out his Entertainment Weekly, trying and failing not to smile.

"That's bullshit," David said, waving his fork at Wes. Clearly, when the curse words came out, he was angry. "Hall monitor duties take, like, half an hour tops. You were gone the whole damn night, and I had to have an eighties movie marathon by myself. Do you know how depressing it is to sit and watch Princess Bride by yourself and quote along with it? It's really sad."

"Something came up," Wes said, evasively.

Wes was a lot of things- good singer, fairly good dancer, straight-A student, wonderful person. But he was really, _really_ bad at lying and making up cover stories. Both Wes and David knew that.

"Wes," David said, in a tone of warning.

"Okay, I hung out with Blaine," Wes tried.

"And didn't invite me?" David asked skeptically.

"And Kurt," Wes added, smiling a little sheepishly.

"You, Blaine, and Kurt had a party last night," David said slowly, "and you didn't invite me?"

"Well-" Wes' shoulders were beginning to scrunch towards his ears, and Blaine was beginning to think of saving him.

Unfortunately, it was at that moment that two guys passed, one of them saying (obnoxiously loudly), "-no idea how Hummel snuck _six_ girls in, but damn, kid's legend."

If it hadn't been such a (in Wes' over-dramatic words) "life-or-death" situation, the way David's eyes bugged from his head would have been rather amusing.

"I guess there's no hoping you didn't hear that?" Wes asked, taking a sip of his water. He seemed to have recovered and taken on a calmer demeanor.

"You spent last night with _six girls _that Kurt- I won't even question it- snuck in, and you _didn't invite me_?" David asked, slamming his palms down on the table. A small amount of tea sloshed out of Blaine's mug.

At that moment, Kurt appeared at the table, slipping into his seat with a slightly breathless "hello". He had a faint, shimmery outline of a pair of lips imprinted lightly across his cheekbone, and without thinking, Blaine leaned forward to wipe it off with his thumb. Their eyes locked, and Blaine suddenly realized the intimacy of the gesture.

He swallowed with some difficulty, wondering why he'd never before noticed just how _blue_ Kurt's eyes were, especially when he could have sworn that just the other day, they'd been green. He leaned back into his seat.

David coughed something that sounded suspiciously like, "get a room", then said loudly, "six girls, Kurt?"

At this, Kurt's head snapped to him, and he looked at David with slightly panicky eyes. "Oh, god, you're mad, aren't you?" he breathed.

"Only that you didn't invite me."

"That's what I mean. I knew you couldn't be mad that I snuck in girls. Apparently I'm going down in history." Kurt smirked a little, and Wes high-fived him.

"Are you wearing pink nail polish?" David asked, blinking at Wes.

"Well, it's been lovely," Wes said loudly, jumping to his feet, "but I... uh... have Chemistry." he rushed off.

"He left his bag here," Blaine mused.

"Chemistry isn't his first class," David said, confused.

"It's _Sunday_," Kurt said.

The other two turned their faces to him, both bearing slightly humorous expressions of embarrassment.

"Right," Blaine said.

Kurt rolled his eyes, delicately swallowing another bite of yogurt, and asked, "so what's on the agenda for today?"

"English paper," David said sadly. "I'm going to be locked in my room all day writing the final draft."

Kurt winced. "Bummer."

"I finished mine a week ago," Blaine said, smiling charmingly, and David flipped him the finger.

"I suppose I could spend my Sunday re-organizing my closet," Kurt said dubiously.

"Or you could spend it with me," Blaine said even more charmingly than usual, enjoying the way color crept up Kurt's cheekbones at the suggestion. Their eyes met again, and Kurt offered a hesitant smile.

David coughed awkwardly. "Well... I best be getting a head start on my English essay," he said, picking up his tray as he stood up, and offering Blaine a wink as he walked away.

"What did you have in mind?" Kurt asked, tearing his eyes away from Blaine's.

"We're allowed to leave campus for the day, as long as we're back on by ten," Blaine said.

"And do...?" Kurt prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Blaine smiled crookedly. "I was thinking shopping? Then lunch? And whatever else you want to do."

"You are an _angel,_" Kurt said, fervently. "How did you know I was going through shopping withdrawal?"

Blaine laughed. "Just a guess."

"You're wonderful," Kurt said, dabbing his mouth daintily with a napkin.

Blaine smiled modestly. "Are you set to go?"

"Sure." Kurt glided out of his seat, moving to pick up his shoulder bag. In an act of spontaneous chivalry, Blaine got there first.

Kurt was blushing again, he noted gleefully.

Then he wondered why he _cared_ so much.

**A/N: blah. not satisfied with the ending to that.**

**There will be more soon. Unfortunately, my cousin's visiting so... yeah. It's taking longer to update because I have to spend time with her. Take her on campus tours, etc. Wahoo. **

**Anyway, hopefully I'll have a new chapter up soon!**


	4. Time Alone

**A/N: for those who were wondering about confirmation about what R. Murph said- here's a link- http : / / community . livejournal . com / kurt _ blaine / 569539 . html**

**Abbylabby, you continue to be awesome. Always. Seriously, I think we really should get married. Let's be best friends on Tumblr :D**

**OHMYGOD GUISE I'm freaking out, I actually started fanning myself. Idek who it was who gave my fics a shoutout on tumblr, but just so you know- I saw it and I'm SO happy. I love you all so much! Siriusly. And the compliments some of you give me are precious and I love you much.**

**And holy shit. I posted a leetle post, like whatever, with a gif because it's something I've been thinking since I saw the episode and finally I just had to do it. And like... everyone started reblogging it, which was fucking weird because nobody's ever reblogged a post that I myself made. http : / / well i still think . tumblr . com / post / 2914984356 / i -throw-my-hands-up-in-the-air-some**

**yeah, it's freaking me out. **

**Drove to 5 different stores to look for EW. Finally had to (not even kidding) take a bus about fifty minutes off-campus to get to a store that had it. Was so pissed off, I bought three copies. I don't even know. **

**Disclaimer: don't own Glee.**

_But the end, it will come, still you have to play dumb,_

_ Till you're glum and you bum_

_ and turn blue..._

Blaine wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, but _one_ of them had started singing, and now they were strolling arm and arm down the street and belting out the Tango Maureen at the top of their lungs.

After the last note was left hanging in the air, Kurt laughed and rested his head against Blaine's (1). "God, I haven't done that in a long time."

"Sung?" Blaine asked, his brow furrowed. They'd had Warbler practice only two nights ago.

Kurt shook his head. "No. Spontaneity like this. At New Directions we used to have the most random sing-offs. If one of us had something to say, we sang it. If we were sad, we sang it. If we were happy, we sang it. If we were mad- you get the picture."

"Sounds amazing," Blaine said, thinking of the Warblers' Choir Room with its boring order and practices scheduled down to the very last minute.

"It's _chaotic_." Kurt laughed. "And Rachel's _always _making some form of noise- we're forever listening to her sing. Or talk. Or cry. Or shout."

"For some reason, that doesn't surprise me," Blaine said, thinking of the most vocal member of New Directions.

Kurt was silent, and Blaine turned a little to study his face. His expression was wistful, and something in Blaine's throat closed up. Kurt _really_ missed New Directions. So much that Blaine was sure that if Karofsky was somehow taken out of the picture, Kurt would be back at McKinley in a heartbeat.

Suddenly, it was very hard for Blaine to breathe.

Somehow, in the last three months, he'd become ridiculously dependent on the boy who was walking next to him. Somehow, in the last three months, Kurt had become Blaine's best friend. And Blaine knew full-well he _wasn't_ Kurt's. Sometimes it just hurt to be reminded of that.

"You really miss McKinley, don't you?" Blaine asked, softly.

"I miss New Directions and I miss wearing what I want," Kurt corrected, tugging at his navy-and-crimson tie. "Other than that, there is absolutely _nothing_ I miss about that school."

"All your best friends are there," Blaine argued weakly.

"Not all," Kurt said, and squeezed Blaine's arm pointedly.

_Not all. Notallnotallnotallnotall._ He tried to ignore whatever feeling _that_ was that made his chest feel like a balloon was swelling inside it.

"I see," he said, in a voice that was meant to sound nonchalant and casual but instead came out sounding pre-pubescent.

He was suddenly knocked off-balance as Kurt tugged him into a store. "Look at this!" Kurt gasped, picking up a scarf Blaine recognized as having been featured prominently in the most recent issue of Vogue.

"It's nice," he said automatically, before he could stop himself.

Kurt turned to face Blaine, putting his hands on his hips. His face was severe, and somewhat disappointed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Blaine asked innocently, because retreating and denial was what he was the best at.

"Do _that_," Kurt snapped. "I know you recognize this scarf, because you devour _Vogue_ like it's your Bible. Now, really. What do you think?" He draped the scarf around Blaine's neck, his eyes fixed on Blaine's.

Blaine sighed. "The material is wonderful," he admitted, "and I do love the color. But the cut is a little too last season, don't you think?"

The grin that split Kurt's face made Blaine's stomach feel a little bizarre, like it was going to fall out of his feet. "That's exactly what I was thinking," he said, putting the scarf back on the manequin it had been artfully draped around. "Now, could you please not smother yourself under a shield of masculinity for the rest of the day?"

Blaine smiled sheepishly as his friend took his arm again.

"Now," Kurt said. "What do you want to do?"

"There was this jacket I saw when I was here last week," Blaine said, slowly. "I wanted to try it on but Wes and David kind of wanted to get going."

Kurt shook his head. "Boyish insanity," he sighed with a smile. "What store?"

"What, you mean- you want to go get it now?"

"No time like the present," Kurt grinned, and Blaine barely had time to roll his eyes at the cliche before he was being tugged out of the store and down the street again.

The jacket was hanging exactly where it had been the last time Blaine had seen it, and was exactly how Blaine had remembered it.

Kurt whistled as he ran his hands over the fabric. "You have good taste." He pulled the coat off the hanger and folded it carefully into Blaine's arms. "Try it on."

Blaine shrugged into the jacket, holding out his arms for Kurt's approval.

Kurt was staring blankly.

Blaine coughed.

Kurt blinked suddenly. "Oh. Um. Wow. It looks... get it."

"Buy it? Now?"

"_Definitely_ get it." Kurt was still staring at him, and Blaine had no idea why. The jacket wasn't anything extraordinary- it was simple cut and fabric. He wasn't even sure it was a designer label. But Kurt couldn't seem to take his eyes off it.

"Do you want it, instead?" Blaine offered, beginning to take it off. It was the only possibility for the look in Kurt's eyes.

"_No_," Kurt laughed, confusing Blaine to no end. "It wouldn't look right on me at all. It's definitely made for you."

And here, he was faced with another dilemma (they seemed to pop up all over the place when he was with Kurt). He didn't want Kurt to see him pay for the jacket.

He wasn't ashamed of the sheer amount of money his family had, per say, he just wasn't exactly proud of it either. Especially when he knew just how much Kurt had to save to afford a single item from Alexander McQueen's collections, and the intensity which he possessed when he went hunting for bargains (which he was insanely good at).

He definitely didn't want Kurt to see him open his wallet and choose between the six different credit cards in there.

"Ooh look, a Ralph Lauren bag," Blaine said vaguely, pointing somewhere at the back of the shop, and it worked. Kurt was off.

Fortunately, there was no line. Blaine dropped his Visa three times as he tried with fumbling fingers to pay for the nine hundred and seventy-eight dollar jacket (thank God Kurt hadn't seen the price tag), and he only barely managed to get his wallet back into his pocket before Kurt came bounding back, scowling.

"You saw incorrectly," Kurt frowned. "No Ralph Lauren bag."

"Funny, I could've sworn I saw one." Blaine shrugged innocently. "Ah well. Shall we?" he offered an arm to Kurt, who accepted with a grin.

He wondered if he'd ever have this with Wes or David. This sort of easy camaraderie, the easy acceptance, the lightness he always felt when he was with Kurt. He loved his best friends, he really did. He'd never be able to forget the time Wes drove to eight different stores looking for Blaine's specific brand of gel when he'd run out. Or the time David stayed up with him all night helping him revise last year's massive English paper so he wouldn't fail it. Or how both of them seemed to instinctively know if his drawer of m&m's was getting low, and would re-stock it without a second thought.

But then there was Kurt, who didn't look at him strangely when he happened to mention how much he'd loved Anne Hathaway's Golden Globes dress. On the contrary, Kurt would clap his hands excitedly and agree, and then they'd get into an intense and animated conversation in which they used an intricate grading system to rate the quality of the outfits at the Globes.

He wasn't sure if anyone else would ever get him the way Kurt did.

It also helped that Kurt was really the only guy Blaine knew who would nudge him with a grin and point out a particularly attractive boy that happened to be walking by.

And then that particularly attractive boy looked Kurt up and down- from head to toe- and offered a stunningly suggestive smile.

Something- Blaine wasn't quite sure what- flared white-hot in Blaine's chest, and he shot a glare at the other boy and squeezed Kurt a little closer to him. There was that feeling again, the one he'd gotten when he'd seen Karofsky for the first time, that feeling he didn't _understand_.

Kurt looked down at him, the tips of his ears still red, the smile fading from his face. "What was that all about?"

What the hell _was_ that about? Blaine honestly couldn't tell Kurt, because he had no idea himself.

"Nothing. Do you want to get lunch now?"

Honestly, it had never occurred to him that guys might be interested in Kurt. And oh god, that sounded bad. It wasn't that he thought Kurt wasn't attractive- Christ, you'd have to be _blind_ not to see how beautiful he was. It's just- it was _Ohio_, for God's sake. Blaine only knew of four or five other gay guys at Dalton, and three of them had boyfriends.

But that was_ Dalton_, where it was different. Because even if you didn't approve of gays, you couldn't _say_ or _do _anything about it or you would be subject to the wrath of the administration.

_This _was just a random street in Westerville, and a _really_ attractive boy had just checked Kurt out. He could feel his throat tightening, and introduced a new subject.

"So, why didn't you go home this weekend?" He steered Kurt into a small seafood restaurant, remembering the time Kurt had waxed poetic for nearly an hour about some shrimp dish he'd had there.

"Dad and Carole went off to the yearly Ohio Mechanics Convention," Kurt said, "and I would rather _not_ be home alone with Finn, because as much as I love him, he commandeers the TV and there's only so many explosion movies and video games I can take."

"Ah."

The hostess smiled at them, pulling a stack of menus from behind the stand. "Two?"

Blaine nodded his head, and she led them to a secluded booth in the corner of the restaurant, setting down their menus. "Your server will be right with you."

Kurt eyed him suspiciously. "You brought me here because of my shrimp rant, didn't you?"

Blaine offered up one of his more charming smiles and didn't answer.

Kurt shook his head, opening the menu. "So what about your family?"

Blaine's hand tightened on the edge of the table. He really, _really_ didn't want to talk about his family with Kurt.

After a moment of Blaine being silent, Kurt looked up, his eyes a little wide. "I'm sorry, was that nosy?"

"Kurt, there's no need to apologize," he said. "My family is just something I'd rather save for a much less... pleasant day."

He could tell that Kurt was _itching_ to ask him more, and appreciated it when he refrained from doing so.

"Can we talk about yours, instead?" Blaine asked. He liked hearing about Kurt's family. "Tell me what's been going on with Finn."

"Still heartbroken over Rachel," Kurt sighed, scanning the menu. "I think it really hurt him, what she did."

Blaine nodded in agreement, remembering the massive back story that Kurt had filled him in on, and Finn's history with Puck and Rachel and Quinn.

"Mostly he just lies there in bed and plays video games. Sometimes he'll watch football with Dad. But I think the only person he really _talks_ to anymore is me."

"You two are close?" Blaine asked. He hadn't gotten that impression from the tales of the past Kurt had told him- moreover, he'd gotten the impression that Finn was the tiniest bit freaked out by Kurt. In a way, Blaine couldn't exactly blame him. He'd seen Kurt at his pushiest and most aggressive. When the boy wanted something, he fought hard for it. And he'd wanted Finn at some point last year. The stories were amusing, of course, and Kurt clearly had fun telling them- how he'd tricked Finn's mom and his Dad into a relationship, all of his scheming to get them into the same house together- but Blaine could sort of see Finn's side of things when the story reached a more unpleasant point.

Finn had been wrong in _every way_ to call Kurt that, of course, and Blaine had felt choked with anger when Kurt had whispered the vile word while telling the story, but he could understand the meaning behind Finn's cruelty.

Kurt was talking, he suddenly realized.

"-really likes having a brother," he was saying. "He took to it amazingly fast- he tells me everything now. We talk a few times a week, if we can. He's the one who drives up to get me for the weekends, and sometimes we'll just sit and talk things out. I think some part of it is that he's there and I'm here and neither of us are directly involved in the other's social life, so we can offer unbiased opinions. And Finn doesn't have to take crap anymore for my flagrant gayness," he added, with a slightly bitter smile.

There it was again. Kurt was nearly always happy now, but sometimes something like _that _would slip out and Blaine would be reminded of how much Kurt simultaneously _loathed _and _missed_ McKinley High School.

He chose to ignore it this time. "So then, why didn't you choose to spend the weekend with him?"

"Rachel's back together with Puck," Kurt said, and Blaine nodded in understanding.

"Ah."

"Yeah. I don't really think Finn wants me around the house right now. I tend to sing a lot when I'm doing dishes or laundry or cleaning and he says my singing voice reminds him of Rachel."

"Ah." Yet another example of Finn not thinking before he said anything.

"What he needs is to be alone this weekend," Kurt said, right as the waitress returned.

"Are you ready to order?"

"Oh god, I totally forgot to even look at the menu, I was so busy talking," Blaine said apologetically, opening his.

"That's fine," the waitress reassured him. "Five more minutes?"

"That would be wonderful." Blaine smiled, and the waitress walked away, the back of her neck red against her dark blue shirt.

Kurt was laughing to himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Do you have a different charming grin for specific occasions?" he asked. "Do you have a numerical system for keeping track of which is which?"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Blaine asked, mystified.

"Is it- oh, I forgot my homework, better pull out Charming Smile number 4. Or, cop just pulled me over, time for Charming Smile number 18?"

"First of all," Blaine said, "I've never been pulled over, nor have I ever forgotten my homework."

"Of course not," Kurt agreed sarcastically. "Just more shining examples of your perfection."

"Exactly," Blaine said, winking. "And yeah, I know I'm good at charming grins. It pisses Wes and David off to no end that I never get in trouble. But I don't have a numbering system for them, no."

"I'm actually disappointed," Kurt said, closing his menu and sliding it to the edge of the table.

"Why, because you have a numerical system for your snide looks?" Blaine shot back.

The corner of Kurt's mouth twitched. "Of course I do."

"You'd better tell Wes and David that," Blaine said. "They've been spending weeks trying to catalog your various eye-rolls and ice-queen glares."

"Oh lord." Kurt laughed. "Should I take that to mean Wes likes me?"

"I think last night pretty much solidified Wes' respect for you," Blaine said, grinning playfully. "Also, it was really helpful for me, to see that he was okay with me."

"I knew he would be." Kurt folded his arms, but he was smiling. "Have more faith in your friends, Blaine."

"David though," Blaine said uncertainly, looking down to pick at his nails.

A hand covered his, halting his motions, and he looked back up. Kurt was leaning close, closer than Blaine had expected.

"David loves you just as much as Wes does," Kurt said quietly, "and he will accept whoever you are and whoever you want to be just as much as Wes did."

Blaine tried to figure out why his heart was beating so fast.

Kurt leaned back, and flashed him a smile. "Now," he said. "You need to figure out what you want to eat."

Blaine shook his head to clear it, then stared back down at the menu. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the waitress approaching.

He chose the first thing on the menu. He honestly couldn't remember what he'd ordered as soon as he handed her the menu, which could be potentially problematic, seeing as he was a picky eater. She smiled, promised the food would be out quickly, and left.

Kurt folded his chin onto his hands, and tilted his head to the left, examining Blaine.

It sort of made Blaine feel self-conscious.

"What?"

"Why do you use hair gel?" Kurt asked, curiously.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Says the King of Hairspray."

"I mean, why do you you use _so much_ hair gel," Kurt clarified. "Size of a dime, that's all you need."

"You've never seen my hair ungelled before," Blaine said. "You might be singing a different tune if you had. Besides, I used to have long hair, back in my freshman year. When I transferred here, Wes thought it was funny to stick things in it for some reason."

"Things?" one of Kurt's eyebrows arched.

"Tater tots. Clay. Origami fish. That sort of thing."

It seemed Kurt didn't know what to say to that.

He spent the rest of lunch regaling Kurt with various hair stories (there were a surprising number of them, from before he chopped it all off and gelled it all to hell), and smoothly sliding his credit card to the waitress before Kurt could even offer to pay the bill.

It helped to have years of experience with discreet exchanging of money.

And oh god, that made Blaine sound like some sort of sexual deviant, which he _was not_, thankyouverymuch.

Kurt was still pouting a little over Blaine's skills with a credit card when they left the restaurant. His glare sort of told Blaine that it wasn't the best idea to hold the door open for him, even if he was only being _gentlemanly_, because apparently Kurt didn't like "being treated like a swooning girl from the 1950's", or so he put it.

They continued their walk down the more picturesque part of town, Kurt grudgingly slipping his arm back through Blaine's when it became evident that he needed some help walking so he wouldn't slip on the ice in his ridiculously inappropriate-for-the-weather shoes.

They reached the Town Green, a cobblestone-surrounded area of brown grass and wilted gardens. Kurt glanced around. "This is a little depressing."

"It's much prettier in the summer," Blaine explained. "There are fairs, entertainers, booths..."

There was one entertainer today, which was odd. Even though it was unseasonably warm for March, the lone man strumming a beat-up acoustic guitar under a bare oak tree had to be cold.

Both of them strained their ears to hear the music, and grinned when they recognized it.

As if by mutual agreement, both of them moved forward, walking towards him.

_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream..._

The man looked up as they stopped in front of him, continuing to play the chords. "Can I help you lads?"

His voice was tinged with a bit of an Irish accent, and most of his face was hidden by a thick red beard and mop of curly red hair.

Kurt smiled. "That's just a fairly familiar song to us. We sing in an a Capella choir at our school, and that's one of our arrangements."

The man grinned, revealing a mouthful of slightly crooked teeth. "I'm Shane."

"Blaine," Blaine said, offering a hand.

"Kurt," Kurt added, shaking Shane's hand.

"Do either of you play?" Shane asked, gesturing to his guitar.

Kurt shook his head. "Only piano," he said, a small regretful smile twisting his mouth.

"I do," Blaine said, and Kurt looked at him in surprise.

"Taught myself a few years ago on my dad's old acoustic," Blaine said.

Shane held his guitar out to Blaine. "Play us a tune, would you?"

Hesitantly, Blaine took the guitar, shuffling through his mental play list of songs he could easily translate to acoustic guitar.

When he settled on one, he shifted the guitar in his hands, getting the feel of the instrument, and began to strum the beginning.

Something like recognition lit up in Kurt's eyes, which surprised him. This wasn't exactly Kurt's style of music- it wasn't from a musical, nor was it Lady Gaga or Rihanna.

_Well, it's a big, big city and it's always the same_

_ can never be too pretty, tell me your name_

_ is it out of line if I was to be bold and say would you be mine?_

Shane was grinning his approval, bobbing his head in time to the music, his fingers tapping on his legs like he was playing an imaginary keyboard.

_Because I may be a beggar and you may be the Queen_

_ I know I may be on a downer, I'm still ready to dream_

_ Though it's three o'clock_

_ the time is just the time it takes for you to talk_

He hadn't played the guitar in a _long_ time, he realized, as he had to really focus to pick out the correct chords.

_so if you're lonely, why'd you say you're not lonely_

_ Oh, you're a silly girl_

_ I know, I hurt you so_

_ It's just like you to come and go_

There was something niggling in the back of Blaine's mind that he couldn't quite understand. Like there was more of a reason that he chose this song than simply that it was by a British band, and Shane's accent had reminded him of it.

_And know me, no, you don't even know me_

_ you're so sweet to try_

_ oh my, you caught my eye_

_ a girl like you's just irresistible..._

Shane wasn't making any move to take the guitar back, so Blaine strummed the instrumental part in between the chorus and the next verse and tried to work harder at figuring out what, exactly, he was supposed to be _figuring out_. It was like the rest of his body knew, his brain was just being a little slow to catch up.

_Well, it's a big, big city and the lights are all out_

_ but it's as much as I can do, you know I'll figure you out_

_ and I must confess_

_ my heart's in broken pieces and my head's a mess_

_ and it's four in the morning and I'm walking along_

_ beside the ghost of every drinker here who's ever done wrong_

_ and it's you, woo hoo, _

_ who's got me going crazy for the things you do..._

He bridged back into the chorus, wondering why his heart was thrumming faster just because Kurt was smiling more widely than he usually ever did.

_and if you're crazy, I don't care, you amaze me_

_ but you're a stupid girl, oh me, oh my, _

_ you talk, I die, you smile, you laugh, I cry_

_ and only a girl like you could be lonely_

_ and it's a crying shame, if you would think the same_

_ a boy like me's just irresistible... _

He let the guitar sort of slowly fade out, then handed it back to Shane quickly. "Thank you for letting me have the chance to play. I haven't in a while."

"I couldn't tell," Shane said, quite generously, in Blaine's opinion. "You have some talent, lad. Hate to see that go to waste."

And then he gave Kurt a look that Kurt seemed to have no trouble at all deciphering, because it made him blush right to the tips of his ears.

Blaine found this fairly adorable in a way that normally would have disturbed him, but suddenly, after singing that song, things were all clicking into place.

It all made sense, and he couldn't believe he hadn't figured it out before. Maybe it was because Kurt wasn't his usual type, or because he was so used to looking at Kurt through a mentor's eyes, or maybe because Kurt just seemed so damn innocent, to him, but the realization sort of sent a jolt through him. And then afterward he felt foolish for not figuring it out sooner.

He was _attracted _to Kurt.

**A/N: (1) think of the cover of enterklainement weekly. Resting his head like that. Like a boss. **


	5. There's a Fine, Fine Line

**aspiringtoeloquence: okay. we won't be married. but we're twins. okay? we have to be. FOREVER. *ahh this is getting creepy*. I PICK YOU! WITH THE RAISED HAND! Pray, please tell me why Kurt was staring, and why Blaine got that white-hot flaring blazey feeling in his chest? I don't think I know. WE ARE FRIENDS. WE ARE TWINS SO WE HAVE TO BE FRIENDS. Oh my, I really do make the best friends over the internet.**

**abbylabby:**** oh... you are my creepy stalker, but I find it flattering and I love you :) I find that Blaine and Kurt look good next to EVERYONE'S face. I based the Wes and David bit a little off my friends- my best friend used to carry around a stash of backup chocolate in her backpack when we were in high school. in case I went into withdrawal. Bless her. Honestly, the numbered looks/smiles is because my roommate has literally been cataloging my various "bitch-please" looks and eyerolls. Apparently I have a lot of them.**

**StuckintheTARDIS:**** actually, I do read Dalton. But weirdly enough, I didn't pick "Shane" because of that. I forgot Shane was a character in Dalton until after I posted the chapter. *facepalm*. I asked my roomie for Irish names and that's what she came up with. **

**Disclaimer: don't own Glee.**

"You seriously ate five pizzas in the past two days and you're asking me _why_ your stomach hurts?" Kurt sighed, tapping his pen against the desk.

Finn's voice sounded tinny and far-away. "Yeah, cuz normally I feel fine."

"You do this on a _regular basis_?" Kurt asked in horror.

"Uh, yes?" Finn sounded as if he couldn't understand the sheer terror in Kurt's voice.

"Finn, you are going to die of cholesterol poisoning before the age of twenty-five," Kurt informed him, spinning around in his chair to get up and pace across the room.

"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Finn, do you know what I had for dinner? A _salad_."

"A salad isn't a dinner," Finn said. "A salad is, like, what girls eat when they think they're fat."

"And there's a reason for that," Kurt said, laying across his bed. "Salads are low in calories. They have a high nutritional value-"

"They only taste good covered in ranch dressing," Finn interrupted.

Kurt groaned. "Ranch dressing totally _negates_ the point of a salad, Finn!"

There was a pause. "Dude, I don't even know what that _means_," Finn said finally.

And then Kurt was laughing. "Oh my god, we _are_ brothers. Arguing over _food_."

He could hear Finn's crackly laugh from the other end of the line.

"So, how's McKinley?" Kurt asked sincerely, once they'd both calmed down enough to carry on their conversation.

"Ugh," was Finn's reply.

"That bad, huh?" Kurt asked sympathetically, sitting up and curling his legs underneath him.

"I think Puck and I are like... friends again," Finn said.

Okay, so _that_ was unexpected. "How did this happen?"

"I have no idea. I mean- man, he'll never be my best friend again. I can't trust him."

Kurt hummed in agreement.

"But I hate fighting with people in Glee. And I think he might actually like Rachel. I can't hate him for that."

Kurt paused in the inspection of his nails. "Oh my god, Finn, you're actually being... mature about this."

He could almost hear Finn's smile. "Been doing some growing up."

"I can tell."

His phone beeped against his ear, indicating that he had a new text. Most likely from Mercedes.

"How's Dalton?" Finn asked. "And the Warblers?"

"Well, Dean is in the hospital because he broke his arm trying to do a back handspring over a sofa during practice today," Kurt said. "Does that answer your question?"

"Dude, are you serious?"

"Dead serious (1). And Wes broke his third gavel this week."

"Why do they all break everything?"

"It's probably better you don't ask," Kurt said thoughtfully.

"It sounds like you're having fun," Finn said, and there was a slight edge to his voice.

"I am. I miss you guys a lot, though. The Warblers are amazing, but they get along a little too well and respect each other's opinions a little too much. I need some drama!" He laughed. "Then again, nobody here accidentally says offensive things." He let out a cough that sounded like a cross between Puck and Artie's names.

Finn laughed from the other side of the phone. "And Blaine?"

Kurt felt the smile slide from his face.

Ah, yes. Blaine.

Things had been going _so well _on Sunday. They'd walked down the street with linked arms and Blaine had paid for lunch (_like a date_) and he'd held the door open for Kurt and looked _amazing_ in that jacket (so much so that Kurt was nearly drooling), and then he'd sung a song that Kurt _really_ loved directly _to _Kurt.

And that's when the good had ended.

After the song, and after Blaine gave the guitar back to Shane, something had changed. Blaine avoided his eyes. He stood away from Kurt. It was like he'd regressed back into the "Dalton" version of Blaine everyone else was used to.

Had he really been that obvious with his utter infatuation with the boy? Had Blaine really been that disturbed when he'd figured it out?  
All this worrying was making Kurt feel sick.

"Blaine." Kurt repeated.

"Yes, Blaine. Aren't you, like, in love with him?"

"Yes," Kurt said stiffly.

"Well, what's going on with him?" Finn prompted.

Kurt sighed. "I swear to god, Finn, he is the _king _of mixed signals."

"I thought the whole point of digging guys instead of girls was that guys aren't confusing like girls."

Kurt half-sighed, half-laughed. "No, Finn, that isn't the point of 'digging guys'. I'd go into the point, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear it."

"Thank you," Finn said fervently.

"But I can assure you, Finn, that guys are _just_ as confusing and mind-boggling as girls are. Does Rachel ever make you want to kiss her and yet slam your head against a wall repeatedly?"

"Okay, dude, it's like you're in my head and it's freaking me out."

Kurt laughed again. "Just- trust me. Blaine is so freaking cryptic I want to tear my own hair out sometimes."

"You'd look super weird bald."

"Thanks, Finn."

They talked for a while longer, about everything and nothing, before the two of them said goodbye.

Kurt hung up, staring at the ceiling for a while. He was honestly worried about Finn. He'd never before realized that the boy really _didn't_ have any true friends at McKinley. He'd thought for a while that there might have been a possibility of Finn and Sam being close, but there had apparently been some sort of falling out between the two of them (over _Quinn_? Kurt wasn't sure. The details from Rachel had been sort of fuzzy).

Somehow, Kurt had better friends at McKinley than Finn did, and Kurt wasn't even _there _anymore.

He suddenly remembered the text he'd gotten during his phone call with Finn, and rolled over to check his phone, fully expecting it to be from Mercedes or Rachel or even Quinn.

**THAD: **Jam session in the choir room 8. You in?

It was 7:30, which gave Kurt exactly half an hour to prepare himself to see Blaine face to face for the first time since Sunday afternoon. Which, of course, wasn't _nearly_ enough time. But he wasn't about to miss the chance to have an actual _jam_ session with the Warblers- something he hadn't had the chance to do since he'd left McKinley.

**KURT: **I'm in.

He pulled his blazer back on, smoothing the sleeves, just as Nick poked his head into the room. "Yo."

"Hey." Kurt spun around, smiling. "Are you going to the jam session?"

"Wouldn't miss it." Nick leaned against the door frame. "I was going to head down to the cafeteria to grab something quick to eat. You want to come?"

"I already had dinner," Kurt said, waving a hand, "but I'd be happy to accompany you."

"Great." Nick grinned, shoving his hands into his pants pockets.

"Let me just feed Pav," Kurt said, sprinkling a few pinches of birdseed through the bars of the cage. He brushed his hands off, picking up his shoulder bag.

"Any idea why we're having a jam session?" Kurt asked as he locked his door. "I thought the Warblers didn't normally do stuff like this."

"We don't," Nick said as they strolled down the hall. "Apparently Blaine was talking to Wes and David. The tie at Sectionals really shook them- I guess they sort of realized that in order to win, we need to step it up. And New Directions' dancing was phenomenal. So it was Blaine's idea to do a sort of jam session maybe once a week to keep us loose. You know, not so rehearsed."

Kurt stopped. Nick walked a few more feet before realizing Kurt was no longer next to him. He turned around. "Is something wrong?"

"_Blaine_ suggested that?" Kurt asked. It felt as if his veins were actually on fire.

"Uh, yeah?"

"I feel like a traitor," Kurt whispered. He was furious with himself.

Nick took the few steps back to Kurt. "What do you mean?"

"I told Blaine about New Directions, what the practices were like, what the people in the club were like. What sort of assignments we'd do on a weekly basis in order to keep our creativity up to par."

Nick shrugged. "So?"

"_So_, it's like I betrayed them. Blaine got that idea from _me,_ and in turn, New Directions! If I left Dalton and transferred back to McKinley, and told New Directions all about how Warbler practices worked, you'd all be mad at me, wouldn't you?"

"Of course-" Nick started, then halted.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Exactly."

"It's not like we're sabotaging them," Nick argued. "We're just taking a few of their methods in order to improve our own performances."

"But _I _gave you that information!" Kurt said as they entered the cafeteria. "No, I gave _Blaine _that information, and he's using it against me now?"

Nick shrugged as he grabbed an apple. "He probably didn't realize it'd bother you that much. He probably didn't even think about it."

"Wrong," said Kurt. "You know Blaine. He thinks about _everything_. He _over-_thinks everything, actually."

Nick didn't seem to have an answer for that. He shoved the apple into his mouth as he hunted through his bag. He pulled out a sheaf of music and passed it to Kurt. "Here's the song we're jamming to."

Kurt glanced down at it. "The Beatles?"

"It's perfect for an ensemble. And Blaine mentioned that your voice is good with Beatles songs."

Just because he'd sung _one_ Beatles ballad...

But really, what had gotten into Blaine? The Blaine Kurt knew would _never _stoop so low as to betray Kurt's trust. He felt somewhat as if he was experiencing another Jesse St. James- except this time, it was his own fault, for assuming that Blaine was too honorable to take advantage of Kurt's need to talk to someone and Kurt's obvious infatuation with the older boy.

Clearly, he'd been wrong.

He was absolutely fuming by the time they reached the choir room. Nick turned the handle.

They were early, so the only people there were Blaine and David. The two were standing by the piano, discussing something in low voices with their heads bent together.

Nick moved to his seat silently, but Kurt dropped his bag on the floor. It landed with a loud thud. Both Blaine and David jumped.

"Hello, _Blaine_," Kurt said, loudly.

Blaine smiled politely, as was his habit, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes. "Hi, Kurt."

"Nice to know our _friendship_ means so much to you."

Blaine looked tired. "What are you talking about, Kurt?"

Kurt fairly exploded. "I TOLD YOU ABOUT NEW DIRECTIONS BECAUSE WE'RE _FRIENDS_ AND THEN YOU GO AND USE ALL THAT INFORMATION _AGAINST _ME AND AGAINST _THEM_!"

David took a few steps backward, looking wary. "Come on, Nick," he muttered, and the two left the room.

Blaine moved towards Kurt, his hands held up in an "I-surrender" sort of way. "Now, hold on, Kurt-"

"Don't _tell_ me to hold on!" Kurt yelled, nearly beside himself with anger. He couldn't remember being this angry since Finn had used the f-word to describe him last year. Even then, he'd just internalized his anger. "I am _so damn sick_ of being _disappointed_ by every single person I decide to trust!"

"Kurt-" Blaine tried to catch his arm, but Kurt swung it away.

"And I _trusted_ you, Blaine, not to be another Jesse St. James, and I told you about New Directions because it was so nice to have someone to talk to, but Mercedes was _right_!"

"_Kurt!_" Blaine said quickly. "I honestly have _no idea _what you're talking about!"

Kurt folded his eyes. "Then why the hell did you just _decide _to do a jam session? Nick said it was _your _idea, and you got it from me!"

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Nick tends to hear what he wants to hear," he said gently. "He also tends to make up information to fill in gaps when he doesn't have the full story. We've been wanting to do a jam session for a while now, since before you told me _anything_ about your old club."

"A Beatles song, Blaine?"

Blaine threw up his hands. "In case you're forgetting, _I'm not on the damn council_! I have no say in what songs they select! I didn't even know they'd chosen a Beatles song until Wes and David gave me the sheet music!"

"And you all just happened to decide to do a jam?"

"I already said that. Believe what you want. We've wanted to do a jam for a really long time, but we didn't know how the group would react to that kind of change in the dynamics of our rehearsal. We didn't actually decide to do it until we saw you today at rehearsal, and realized what an effect you have on the rest of the guys."

Kurt arched an eyebrow.

"You don't see it, Kurt, but we do," Blaine said. "You have so much energy- I don't know how anyone could be unhappy around you."

"_You _don't seem to have a hard time with it," Kurt snapped.

Blaine's brow furrowed, and he reached for Kurt's arm again. "Kurt, what's going on?"

Kurt tried to twist away, but Blaine held on with an iron grip this time, forcing Kurt to look at him.

"Did I do something wrong?" Kurt asked, before he could stop himself.

Blaine blinked. Clearly he hadn't been anticipating that question.

"Kurt, why would you ever think you did anything wrong?" he asked sincerely, sitting Kurt down on one of the couches.

"You've been avoiding me," Kurt accused, staring straight at Blaine and trying extremely hard not to get distracted by the light shifting in his hazel eyes.

"Kurt, I have _not_ been avoiding you," Blaine said, gripping Kurt's hands tightly and gazing at him with an earnest look on his face. "Some things have gone down with my family over the past few days and right now, I'm just trying to sort them out. I'm sorry if that made you feel as if I've been neglecting you in any way."

Well, now Kurt felt like an asshole. He didn't want to be some needy little brat that took up all of Blaine's time and attention.

"No-" he said, quietly. "No, that's fine. I just didn't understand. Thank you for explaining."

"I'm sorry for not considering your feelings," Blaine said, and Kurt took a moment to wonder how on earth he could be so damn perfect.

"Movie night tomorrow to make up for it?" Blaine offered, and now Kurt really felt like he was going to cry, because he'd been _such _a _bitch_ and Blaine was being so nice about it. He only nodded, forcing a smile onto his face.

David poked his head through the door, looking relieved at the sight of Blaine and Kurt sitting calmly on one of the sofa's, Kurt's hands still clutched in Blaine's.

"No blood was shed? Can we come in now?"

Blaine chuckled, releasing Kurt's hands, and stood up. "Sure. Is everyone else here yet?"

"Well, it's eight o'clock on the dot," David said, as if that was an answer. Which it was, because Wes was somewhat of a punctuality freak and would legitimately tear someone a new one if they were even a minute late.

The Warblers piled into the room, some casting wary looks at Blaine and Kurt.

Kurt wished he had something to hide behind.

Wes tapped his gavel lightly on the table as everyone took a seat, and Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Even during a freaking jam session, everyone was so formal.

"So, we figured we'd split up and just learn our harmonies for about fifteen minutes, then get back together and try to perform the whole thing. We won't be learning dances. That will be improvised based on what you feel fits in the song. Pick up a copy of the sheet music at the front." He nodded at a pile of papers on the front desk.

Kurt followed the others to the stack of music, but David stopped him before he could pick up a copy. "Hold on a minute, Kurt. Blaine, a word?"

Kurt felt his heart sink. Oh, god.

They waited until the other Warblers had cleared to different parts of the room to work on their various harmonies to speak.

"Kurt, Blaine, we'd like you two to perform the lead vocals on this song. As a duet. If it's good enough, we may do it at Regionals."

"Are- are you serious?" Kurt stammered.

Wes grinned. "Congratulations."

Blaine was smiling, too, and holding the sheet music out to him. "I was thinking you could take the second part. Since it isn't originally intended as a duet, we'll have to figure out some way to split it up."

The fifteen minutes flew by, and Kurt was actually shocked when Wes called them back together as a group. "Is everyone set on the harmonies?"

A chorus of "yes"'s filled the room. Wes turned to look at Blaine and Kurt. "And you've figured out your parts for the melody?"

Blaine smiled in a way that sent butterflies fluttering through Kurt's stomach. "We have."

"Then we'll start."

It was slightly choppy at first, but as soon as the harmonies settled in, and Jeff and Nick chimed in with a "_it feels so right_", Blaine looked at Kurt, and began to sing.

_Now hold me tight... tell me I'm the only one_

_ and then I might, never be the lonely one_

The rest of the Warblers echoed in wherever the music called for it, and added their own "aaaah"s to harmonize.

_ so hold... (hold) me tight (me tight) tonight (tonight) tonight (tonight)_

Kurt laughed a little before joining in.

_It's you... you, you, you... _

Blaine let his voice fade into the background while Kurt took the next verse.

_Hold me tight, let me go on loving you_

_ tonight, tonight... making love to only you_

(He tried so hard to control the blush that he knew had to be spreading across his face at that line).

_So hold (hold) me tight (me tight) tonight (tonight) tonight (tonight)_

_ It's you... you, you, you..._

Blaine stood up, offering his hand to Kurt as he sang the next part.

_Don't know what it means to hold you tight, being here alone tonight with you..._

_ it feels so right now..._

Kurt laughed as Blaine twirled him, and sang back to him as they danced around the other Warblers. He couldn't honestly be imagining the look in Blaine's eyes when he looked at Kurt, could he?

_Hold me tight, tell me I'm the only one_

_ and then I might never be the lonely one_

_ So hold (hold) me tight (me tight) tonight (tonight) tonight (tonight)_

Kurt nimbly hopped up onto a couch, bringing Blaine with him, as the rest of the Warblers gathered around them, and sang his last line alone. Directly to Blaine. With as much courage as he could muster.

_It's you... you, you, you... _

_you..._

They finished the last note together, Blaine's hand detangling from Kurt's the moment their voices faded out.

Kurt looked at Blaine with a frown. The other boy was looking away, unwilling to meet his eyes.

What had he done wrong?

Wes clapped his hands, bringing Kurt back to the present. "That was _amazing_," he said excitedly. "Think of all the things we could do with that at Regionals! Especially if we're as _loose_ as we just were!"

David picked up Wes' bag for him, shaking his head good-naturedly as he followed Wes (still babbling on about Regionals) out the door.

The rest of the Warblers trickled out after him, slapping Kurt and Blaine on the back, high-fiving them, offering Blaine dancing lessons.

Then it was only Blaine and Kurt left in the room, and Kurt could easily see the alarm in the other boy's eyes. "Blaine-"

"Lot of homework," Blaine mumbled, and almost knocked over a music stand in his hurry to get out of the room.

Kurt collapsed on the couch, staring at nothing, feeling nothing.

What had gone wrong?

He tried to rewind through the song in his head, to figure out exactly _when _he'd done something to offend Blaine in some way, but could think of nothing. He must have been delusional, to think Blaine really meant it when he said he wasn't mad at him and wasn't avoiding him. Because if Blaine's hasty exit wasn't proof of that, Kurt didn't know what was.

A song drifted into his head, and he sat up, singing the first few notes to himself.

_There's a fine, fine line, between a lover, and a friend._

_ there's a fine, fine line, between reality and pretend_

_ and you never know til you reach the top, if it was worth the uphill climb_

_ there's a fine, fine line between love... and a waste of time..._

He stood up and paced to the window, his voice gaining more confidence as he stared out across the empty grounds.

_There's a fine, fine line, between a fairytale, and a lie_

_ and there's a fine, fine line between "you're wonderful" and "goodbye"..._

_ I guess if someone doesn't love you back it isn't such a crime_

_ but there's a fine, fine line between love... _

_ and a waste of your time._

He absolutely refused to cry over Blaine. There were things worth crying for, and a boy wasn't one of them. No matter if it was the first boy Kurt actually thought he might have a chance with, or the first boy who'd ever actually understood Kurt and accepted him exactly as he was.

It wasn't important.

_And I don't have the time to waste on you anymore_

_ I don't think that you even know what you're looking for..._

_ for my own sanity, I've got to close the door_

_ and walk away..._

__ Oh god, and now his eyes were watering, and it was so out of control, and it was so_ annoying _that he didn't even have control over his damn tear ducts.

_There's a fine, fine line between together and not_

_ and there's a fine, fine line between what you wanted and what you got_

_ you gotta go after the things you want while you're still in your prime.._

__ He took a deep breath, picked up his bag, and slung it over his shoulder, walking towards the door.

_There's a fine, fine line between love..._

_ and a waste of time._

The door to the choir room swung shut behind him.

Two floors down, Blaine tucked himself into a corner and tried not to remember the look in Kurt's eyes when he'd pushed him away.

**A/N:(1) I write this and think "dead sirius" and then "oh god what's wrong with me?"  
**

**the ending was so much angstier than I'd intended. Oh god. **

**Um. anyways. It'll get better. I promise. **

**I'm no good at angst, which I've said before, so I sincerely apologize. **

**HOW ABOUT THESE EPISODE PREVIEW/SPOILERS, EH?**

**Gonna die gonna die can't last 10 more days...**


	6. Functional Love

**A/N: Okay, so here it is.**

**Gonna be honest. I'm unsure about this chapter. I dislike writing Santana simply because I don't think I do her justice. Enjoy anyway, por favor!**

**Anyone heard about the Silly Love Songs spoilers? DYING. **

**Blaine is an idiot. Really. But he has good reasons, I promise. Reasons that will develop.**

**I'm having a really hard time concentrating on typing this author's note because half my floor is watching "Get Smart" in the rec room down the hall and I really want to go watch it. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

"Kurt! Wait!"

Kurt threw his bag into the trunk of Finn's Forrester (something he'd never do under ordinary circumstances, but you couldn't really blame him) and turned around, plastering a falsely pleasant smile onto his face.

Blaine was jogging across the parking lot, his shoulderbag flapping behind him. He slowed to a stop as he reached Kurt. "I thought we were going to watch a movie tonight?"

Oh god, _really_, was Blaine going to play like that?

Kurt clenched his jaw. "Finn offered to pick me up tonight instead of tomorrow morning," he said. Finn leaned out the window of the driver's seat and waved to Blaine. Blaine returned the wave with a slightly confused smile.

He turned back to Kurt. "Is something wrong, Kurt?"

"No, everything's just wonderful," Kurt said expressionlessly. "Honestly, I can't imagine why something would be wrong."

"Kurt-"

"Blaine, save it," Kurt said coldly. "I don't know what's wrong with you. I'm hoping you genuinely meant what you said last night and that you really aren't mad at _me_, but that's getting harder and harder for me to believe, with the way you've been acting. I need to be away from you for a weekend while you think about how you treat your friends. You're having family issues and I get that, okay? But that doesn't give you the right to be a bitch to me. Actually, pushing me away is the _last_ thing you should be doing right now."

"Kurt-"

"I'm serious, Blaine," Kurt said firmly, shutting the trunk. "Just a weekend. I hope I can come back on Monday and things will be back to normal between us."

He climbed into the passenger's seat of the car, and didn't look back as they pulled out of the parking lot.

Blaine sat down on the ground, not really noticing or much caring when the slush seeped through his pants from the wet pavement.

Kurt was right, of course. Honestly, was there ever really a time when Kurt _wasn't _right? He was doing the exact _opposite_ of what he wanted to do. He was distancing himself from one of his closest friends just because he'd discovered that maybe he was a little attracted to him. Okay, so the possibility of that freaked him out. But Kurt was right. It didn't give him an excuse to be an asshole.

There really _should _be a limit to how stupid he could be.

Finn glanced at Kurt. "So why did you ask me to come get you early?"

"Don't want to talk about it," Kurt said softly, staring pointedly out the window.

Finn let out a huff of breath. "Guy problems?"

"I _said_ I didn't want to talk about it, Finn," Kurt snapped. "Can you just drive, please?"

Finn fumbled with the radio a bit, finally settling on a station that was playing modern pop music. Kurt, recognizing the song, reached over and changed the station.

"Hey, I like Katy Perry," Finn protested.

"If I have to listen to her auto-tuned voice rhapsodizing about skin-tight jeans and sheet forts one more time, I am going to _cut_ someone," Kurt said, in a voice that was more bitter than was strictly necessary.

"Dude, seriously, _what's wrong_?" Finn asked.

Kurt struggled for a moment, then sighed. "It's Blaine."

"I _knew _it was guy problems!" Finn exclaimed triumphantly.

"Finn Hudson, I'm not above strangling the driver," Kurt threatened, and wondered vaguely when on earth he had gotten so violent.

Finn laughed, then sobered a little. "So, what's going on with that Blaine guy?"

And the concern in Finn's voice was so genuine, and Kurt had forgotten what a good brother Finn really was, so Kurt ended up spilling the entire story.

Finn listened quietly, only nodding his head once in a while until Kurt had finished.

"Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but do you think you might be overreacting?" Finn asked, and Kurt turned to stare incredulously at him. Finn backpedaled frantically. "Dude, don't look at me like that, you're freaking me out, all I meant is that if some kid transferred here from our competition Rachel would be _grilling_ them to learn all their secrets, and you know that."

"That's _not _why I'm mad at him, Finn," Kurt said icily, although somewhere in the back of his head he recalled his totally inappropriate explosion at Blaine last night over the very same topic. "He apologized to me, and said he wasn't avoiding or ignoring me, and then he went and did it again."

"Okay, last year, when Quinn was pregnant, the only thing I wanted was a hug from my mom," Finn said. "And you said Blaine was having problems with his family, right?"

Kurt nodded.

"Maybe his parents aren't- you know- cool with him like Burt and my mom are. Maybe that's what's going on. And maybe right now all he wants is a hug from his mom but she won't give him one."

Kurt stared at Finn.

Finn shrugged with one shoulder. "It's just what I think."

"That's actually- really smart, Finn," Kurt said, slowly. "And entirely plausible."

"I'm not an idiot, you know," Finn said, sounding pleased with himself. "I mean, I'm not as smart as you, but I'm not as stupid as everyone thinks I am."

"I know you're not," Kurt said quietly, and the two smiled at each other.

xxxxx

"What the hell is wrong with you, man?" David asked, sitting down next to Blaine on the couch. "Flint just accidentally set fire to a stack of sheet music and you're not even reacting. Why aren't you crying or threatening the life of his unborn children?"

Blaine lifted his head from his hands. "I kind of screwed up," he whispered, a little hoarsely.

"Kurt?" David asked wisely.

Blaine nodded miserably, letting his head drop back into his hands.

"What'd you do?" David asked.

Blaine felt the couch dip beside him and knew Wes had joined them.

"I was an ass to him," Blaine said quietly, "twice. And I think he's about ready to kill me."

"Honestly?" Wes said. "I would be, too. The boy's practically a saint for putting up with you this week."

Blaine glared at him. "Thanks."

"Well, you want to tell us why you've been acting like an asshat for the past week?"

Blaine mumbled something into his hands.

Wes and David leaned in closer. "I'm sorry, didn't catch that?"

"I said, I think I like Kurt."

Wes and David exchanged loaded glances.

"Oh, wow," Wes said.

"I'm so surprised," David added unconvincingly.

Blaine looked up suspiciously. "You two are messing with me."

"No shit, Sherlock," David said.

"You are literally the _last _person besides Kurt himself to figure out that you like him," Wes said, patting Blaine's back. "But don't feel bad. You were never good at figuring out when you liked someone."

"But he's not my _type_," Blaine said, a little petulantly, throwing an arm over his eyes and falling back against the couch.

"Ever think that might be why you're attracted to him?" David asked. "Because _how _well have the past relationships with 'your type' of guys worked out?"

"I miss Damien," Wes said wistfully.

"Screw you both." Blaine groaned.

"Haters gonna hate," the two said together, then high-fived each other in appreciation.

"Do you two have a life outside the Internet?" Blaine asked.

"Of course we do," David said indignantly. "We spend just as much time harassing you as we do on the Internet."

"Oh shit, Flint just lit _another_ stack of sheet music on fire, and I really can't buy the 'it was an accident' excuse this time," Wes said, leaping to his feet. "And that pile of Beyonce is dangerously close to him, so I'll just be-" he hurried off.

"Kurt is _so mad_," Blaine said through his fingers.

"And like we said before, it isn't surprising," David said patiently, prying Blaine's fingers away from his face one-by-one. "Come on, man up. So you screwed up. Dwelling on it isn't going to fix anything. What did he say before he left?"

"Just... that he was going home for the weekend, and he wanted things to be normal when he got back."

David leaned back in his seat, linking his fingers together in a thoughtful manner. "The way I see it, you have two options."

Blaine looked up.

"One, you can act like none of this happened when he gets back. Stop being a jerk, and go back to being yourself again. No matter how you feel about him. Act as if you two never fought, and he'll most likely go along with it. That's the easy option."

"Two?" Blaine whispered.

"You apologize. And you apologize _well_."

"Well?"

David sighed. "Blaine, you have a way with words, and we all know that. You were born with the ability to manipulate the English language to say exactly what you want to say, exactly how you want to say it. And you manage to charm the pants off of nearly everyone in the process."

Blaine grinned at that.

"But that shit doesn't work on Kurt. He sees right through it. You have to get rid of confident, smooth-talking Blaine for a few minutes and say what you need to say." One side of David's mouth quirked up in a smile. "You don't have to be perfect, you know."

"I'm _not_ perfect," Blaine argued. "I give terrible advice, remember? And I get angry. And trip over everything. And-"

"Have a weird m&m fetish, can't dance to save your life, are always at least ten minutes late, I know," David said, holding up a hand. "I'm just saying, you don't have to be perfect for _Kurt_. It's not what he wants and it's not what he needs. Perfection makes people feel inferior. And if Kurt feels inferior to you, that's not exactly the best basis for a relationship."

"Right, as always," Blaine groaned. "Damn you for getting the good-advice-giving gene."

David shrugged nonchalantly, standing up. "I do my best."

"Get out of here." Blaine threw a pillow at him.

xxxxx

Kurt was absolutely sure he was hallucinating when he opened the door and Santana Lopez was standing on his front step.

He blinked. "Finn is in the basement with Puck, Santana."

She rolled her eyes and pushed past him into the house. "No, Kurt, I'm here to talk to _you._ Finn said you'd be home this weekend."

Kurt blinked again, then asked politely, "can I get you something to eat or drink?"

"Do you have oreos?" she asked, scanning the kitchen as she pulled off her Cheerios jacket.

He dug the packaged cookies out of Finn's junk food stash and tossed it to her, then sat on the kitchen table, propping his feet onto a chair and watching her warily.

She caught him. "_What_?" she snapped.

"Seriously, Santana, why are you here?" he asked. "I was under the impression you hated me."

"Just because I make gay jokes doesn't mean I hate you," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "It just means there are some jokes that can't _not_ be said."

"That still doesn't answer my question."

Santana popped another cookie into her mouth. "Getting any action at that gay school?"

"Do you aim to be offensive with every sentence that comes out of your mouth?" Kurt asked severely. "Because rest assured, you succeed."

"Okay, Hummel, shut up. I'm actually here for a reason."

"Get to it, then," Kurt said, a little coldly.

"How are things with Blaine?" Santana asked.

"Firstly, Santana, we're both gay, so it'd be a little hard to sabotage our relationship like you do every other. That is, if we were even a couple, which we're not."

"I guess that answered my question," Santana said, actually looking somewhat disappointed.

"Well, I'm sorry to ruin your perfect streak of messing with every relationship you know," Kurt said sourly.

"Okay, I'm not all about screwing with people's lives, you know," Santana snapped. "I was actually hoping you and Blaine were getting it on."

"Why?" Kurt asked suspiciously.

"Cuz you deserve it, okay?" Santana asked, angrily. She shoved another oreo into her mouth. "And cuz the club and everyone in it has been totally messed up since you left. And I was at least hoping you got some action at that new school."

Was Santana actually telling Kurt that she _missed_ him? He thought she might've been, in a weird, twisted way.

"Actually, Blaine's been an ass," Kurt said calmly, watching Santana's ponytail twitch irritably. "So my love life is no more functional than any one else's in glee."

"Well, that _sucks_," Santana said viciously, tearing open another sleeve of oreos. "Because the _only _relationship that's actually _working_ in glee is Artie and Brittany's."

And suddenly, Kurt knew exactly why Santana had come over.

Delicately, delicately. With Santana, he absolutely could not approach this head-on. She might kill him.

"They're still together?"

"Yes," Santana said, angrily, "and it's so screwed up, they're like, the weirdest couple ever-" she stopped suddenly, glaring at Kurt.

"Jealous?" Kurt asked softly.

"_No_," Santana said firmly. "Just because _you're_ living out your gay fantasy doesn't mean you have to delude yourself into thinking everyone around you has a gay fantasy too."

"Not everyone," Kurt said quietly. "Just you."

Santana slammed down the package of oreos. "Shut it, Hummel."

"Why did you come over here, Santana?" Kurt asked. "To eat all of Finn's oreos? To tease me about Dalton? To tell me how much you _missed_ me?"

They matched their glares, eye-to-eye.

Santana was the first to look away. "How do I break them up?" she asked, in a near-whisper.

Kurt suppressed his smile. _Now_ they were getting somewhere. In a strange, twisted way, he felt sort of honored to be the one Santana went to for something like this.

"Don't... be obvious." he said, smiling ruefully. "I made that mistake last year when I was sabotaging Rachel and Finn. Being obvious just makes them angry and less likely to want to be with you. And it'll make Artie more likely to plot revenge."

"Why are you doing this?" Santana asked quietly. "I've been such a bitch to you."

"Because," Kurt said, reaching out to touch her hand. "I know how it feels to want something so badly it hurts. Something someone else has."

"Blaine getting it with someone else?" Santana asked.

Kurt winced a little at the thought, then shook his head. "No. I'm talking from past experience." He caught the look on her face. "I don't like Finn anymore- at all- and thank god, when I think about it, we would have been so wrong for each other. It was a stupid crush that stemmed from a hero complex. But I remember how it felt. And if there had been even the _slightest_ chance that he could have felt the same-" Kurt laughed slightly. "I would have been on that immediately."

"You and Finn would have been the weirdest thing... ever," Santana said, wrinkling her nose.

Kurt huffed indignantly. "So not the point of this."

Santana let her arm drape across the kitchen table, and tipped her head against it, looking up at Kurt. "So tell me what the point is."

"You can't treat this like another conquest," Kurt began gently. "For starters, because she's _not_ like another conquest. You actually care about her- stop it, you do," he added when Santana made a noise in the back of her throat. "When you care about someone, it isn't all about seducing them, you realize."

Santana inspected her nails. "Seducing always works for me."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Yes, because what you do is hook up with people. You have no idea how to be in a relationship, do you?"

Santana shrugged. "Who said I want to be in a relationship with her?"

Kurt fixed her with one of his signature 'bitch-please' stares.

She looked unsettled. Extremely so. Kurt figured that was only understandable.

"I should go," she muttered, picking up her jacket and rushing to the door. At the last moment she paused, her hand resting on the doorknob.

"Kurt?" she said.

He raised his eyes to hers.

"It was really good to see you," she admitted.

xxxxx

"Please do not tell me you're playing chess by yourself," Thad said, sitting down on the couch across from Blaine.

Blaine grinned a little. "Okay, I'm not playing chess by myself."

"Anyone else in this room would play with you."

"Wrong. Nobody in this room would play with me, because they've all been beaten by me about fifty or sixty times."

"That's true." Thad sighed. "There's only so many times you can whip our asses before our self-esteem is damaged."

"It's the downside to being reigning champion," Blaine said, with a shake of his head, before moving a chess piece. "Any reason you came over to talk, or was it just for idle chatter?"

"Andrew texted me," Thad said. "He can't come down because submission for his Physics lab is midnight tonight, and he started it an hour ago. But you left your phone in your room, and apparently your mom called."

Blaine felt his chest tighten. "Oh," he managed to say. "Andrew didn't pick up, did he?"

Thad gave him an odd look. "No, I don't think so. Why would he?"

"Nothing." Blaine tried to breathe normally and calculate how long it would be before he could call his mother and she would answer. There usually only one reason she ever called.

"Just thought I'd let you know." Thad stood up, turning around to go, then turned back. "Have you seen Kurt, by the way?"

"He said he was going home for the weekend," Blaine said, staring intently at the chessboard, so he wouldn't have to meet Thad's eyes.

"Ah." Thad coughed until Blaine looked up. "When you next see him, please let him know that his request to rent out the choir room for personal use next Tuesday has been granted?"

Blaine's head snapped up. _What?_

"That's all," Thad said, and left.

**A/N: whatthefuck that ending, I know. Don't judge me.**

**I'm gonna go eat some Nutella. **


	7. Untouchable

**AN: So. Several things to cover.**

** Bills, Bills, Bills. "Eargasmic" is the word my friend used, and I call ACCURATE.**

** I discovered someone IRL who reads Dalton and it was pretty much the most awesome thing that's ever happened to me. We both freaked out fangirling.**

** WHO'S HEARD THE TEN SECOND RINGTONE THINGS FOR THE VALENTINE'S DAY EPISODE? http : / w w w . motime. ca / ringtones / Glee - Cast / When-I-Get-You-Alone- % 28 Glee - Cast-Version % 29 _ 5781769 . h t m l**

** brb dying.**

** abbylabby, your reviews always make me super happy when I see them. You're wonderful :) I love you and whatever choices you make. **

** God, you lot don't understand. All my friends want to stab me now because ALL I TALK ABOUT IS GLEE, KLAINE, AND HARRY POTTER.**

** I'm such a freak.**

** Goddammit I just want to write the next chapter because there's some actual STUFF in it.**

Blaine woke the next morning with the worst headache he'd ever had in his life- overshadowing even the time Wes had somehow scored a case of ancient wine from his overage brother and a group of them had drunk through the whole thing in one night.

He tried to recall why he might have a headache. The first thing that came to mind, first, was a hangover, but that was impossible. He'd been so sick after that occasion that he knew he'd never drink again.

Caffeine? That wasn't a possibility, either. Blaine ever only drank tea (and the occasional latte).

Sleep deprived?

_Oh._

Well, clearly he _was_, or he would've thought of that first.

He knew he wasn't the only one in the school who had anxiety- hell, he was almost absolutely sure Wes had anxiety-induced OCD, but Wes could at least sleep at night. He attempted to calculate the amount of hours of sleep total he'd gotten in the past week, but mathematic equations hurt his head far too much. He buried his head under his pillows and groaned.

The clock beeped. 6 am.

Andrew grumbled something from across the room.

There was a word for what Blaine had. Not being able to sleep. At the moment, his mind was far too bleary to recall it. It began with an A, though, he was sure of it. Amnesia. Anorexia. Alliteration. Goddamn, he couldn't remember.

His eyes wanted sleep so badly, but his brain didn't want to obey. It refused to shut down, zooming through thoughts at a thousand miles per hour. Some part of his brain was wishing for grapes. Another part was thinking of the Astronomy homework he hadn't yet done.

He was getting that feeling again, the one he always got when the lack of sleep really caught up to him. Like what was happening wasn't real. His body felt like it was floating.

"Have you ever tried medication?" Andrew mumbled. "There are pills to help you sleep, aren't there?"

"Don't work," Blaine sighed, prising open his tired eyelids and resigning himself to the fact that he would be dragging himself through yet another day on only two or three hours of sleep. He wondered yet again why he didn't just drink coffee.

"Tea?" Andrew suggested. "I read somewhere there's types of tea that aid sleep."

Blaine shook his head, heaving himself from his mattress, his feet fumbling for his slippers on the floor. "I drink tea all the time, remember? It doesn't work."

"Yoga?"

"Now you're just insulting me. Go back to sleep."

Andrew muttered something inaudible and flopped back onto his bed, out in a matter of seconds. Blaine envied his ability to fall asleep so quickly and easily.

He picked his cell phone up off the desk and turned it on, feeling his stomach sink as he realized he'd forgotten to call his parents last night. He had no idea how he could've possibly forgotten, but he thought maybe the romantic comedy marathon Andrew, Wes, Jeff, and David had sat through with him might've helped (Wes and Andrew dropped off somewhere in the middle of _Mean Girls_).

He slid into the hallway, trying to figure out whether his mom would be up yet. He decided it was worth a try to call her- she always turned her cell phone off when she slept, so he'd know she wasn't awake if it hit voicemail right away.

He was lucky- his mom picked up on the second ring.

"Hello?" she sounded as tired as he felt.

"Mom?"

"Blaine? Oh, I'm glad you called, honey. I meant to call you again last night but I was so busy with Janey, I completely forgot."

"That's fine, mom," he said quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "How- how is she?"

"Today's better than others," his mom said quietly. "She only broke her femur this time, so she isn't in a body cast like last time."

He let out a breath. "Can I talk to her?"

His mother hesitated. "Blaine..."

"Please just ask her, Mom."

"Blaine, why do you do this to yourself? You know what she's going to say."

"Then Dad?"

"Dad's in the room with her. I'll let him know you called, though, and he'll probably want to call you back later on today."

He slid down the wall of the hallway, seating himself on the floor. "How is life?"

"Layne had her baby," his Mom said. "I wasn't supposed to tell you, because she wanted to show up at Dalton and surprise you, but she ended up getting a cold and she can't. But it's a beautiful baby boy. She named him Blaine."

He felt as if something warm was replacing all the ice that had been spreading through his chest since the beginning of the phone call. "She didn't."

"She did. He has your hair, I think."

"Poor kid." Blaine laughed softly.

"How are Wes and David?" his mom asked. "It's been too long since I've seen them. And the new boy? What's his name?"

"Kurt," he reminded her. "He's adjusting really well, I think. He's become good friends with Wes and David. And he got a lead in the duet Thursday night."

"Ooh, did you sing it with him?" his mom asked, eagerly. "What song?"

Blaine laughed. "Hold Me Tight, the Beatles."

His mom hummed a few bars of the song. "I bet that sounded lovely. I've yet to hear his voice- if it's half as wonderful as you say, he's going to be incredible."

Blaine's throat tightened. "He is, Mom."

"I know that tone." her voice lowered. "Spill."

He sighed.

"Blaine, honey, are you all right?" she asked, and Blaine still couldn't understand how she could go from sounding like a co-conspirator one minute to a concerned mother in the next.

"I think I want you guys to meet him," he said.

She was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, it was hesitant. "Dear, are you sure? You've never introduced us to-"

"Not as a boyfriend," Blaine said. "I'm not dating him, Mom. I want him to meet you like how Wes and David met you."

"Wes and David didn't meet us until after a good year after you befriended them," his mom reminded him gently. "What's going on, Blaine?"

Blaine sighed heavily into the phone. "I screwed things up with him, Mom. He already has trouble trusting people and I sort of blew that up. And I have to apologize, but more importantly, he has to understand. It's the only way I can get his trust back."

"You like him, don't you?" she asked, without any preamble.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do," he admitted. "But I'm not going to do anything, Mom, because even if he felt the same, I don't think either of us are ready."

"We would love to meet him. _I _would love to meet him. I know Layne would too."

Blaine smiled softly. "_I'd_ love to meet my nephew."

"Call me when you know when you're bringing Kurt home to meet us," his mom said, and Blaine heard some shuffling on her end. "Layne's up, do you want to talk to her?"

"Layne?" he asked in surprise. "Sure. Yes!"

There was a muffled click, and Layne's cheerful voice filled the phone. "Hi!"

Just hearing the sound of her voice made him feel a hundred times better. "Hi, Layne."

"How're things, prep school boy?" she teased.

"Been better, been worse," he answered honestly.

"Anything to do with that ocean-eyed china doll you've taken under your wing?" she asked.

Blaine scowled. "Does Mom tell you everything?"

"Just the important things," she responded cheerfully. "Well?"

"Maybe."

"I saw the picture you sent me. He's absolutely _beautiful_, Blaine," his sister said sincerely. "He honestly is. I can't get over how gorgeous he is. And you say he was bullied?" She sounded as if she couldn't understand how someone could possibly bully someone as lovely as Kurt.

"They bullied him _because_ of how he looks," Blaine bit out. "They called him 'lady'."

"Oh, god, he's like you, isn't he?" Layne asked, sounding a little horrified. "Nobody cared, did they?"

"He belonged to a Glee Club at his old school," Blaine said. He could feel himself getting worked up and tried to force it back down. "Eleven friends, Layne, who were supposed to care about him and have his back and watch over him. And not _one_ of them noticed that he couldn't even lean back in his chair because the bruises across his back were so painful."

"Oh, god," his sister whispered.

"And some stranger who'd known him for about ten minutes guessed in an instant that he was having trouble at school. Yeah, I knew what it looked like- being bullied, I know what that looks like, Layne, but _they should've known too._"

"Why did he transfer, Blaine?" she asked, and there was a steeliness to her voice.

"Death threat," Blaine ground out.

"Oh, god," she whispered. She cleared her throat. "I don't know... why _anyone_ would _ever_ want to hurt someone as beautiful as he is."

"Wait until you meet him," Blaine said, smiling despite himself. "He has the voice of an angel."

"I don't doubt that. I can't wait to meet him, Blaine. He sounds amazing, from what you told me."

"He is."

"Please tell me you've sung with him."

He hesitated. "We, uh... we sang 'Baby, It's Cold Outside' together."  
Layne laughed. "Out of all the songs you could've chosen, you picked one about date rape. Well, I'm sure you made it sound classy."

"It's _not_ about date rape," he tried to say, but Layne was talking to their mom on the other end and didn't hear him. He waited patiently.

"'Hold Me Tight', Blaine, really?" she said. "I see you're aiming for subtlety."

"It was Wes' idea!" Blaine said defensively. "I'm not even _on_ the council, I'm not part of song selection."

"Sure, sure," she said, and the two laughed together.

"So when do I get to meet my namesake?" Blaine asked, and he heard his sister groan.

"Mom! You told him?"

There was a muffled "sorry, sweetie", and Blaine had to laugh. "I doubt Jane's happy about it."

"We're not going to talk about Jane's opinion on the subject," Layne said stiffly. "I honestly don't care what she thinks, and she's acting like a brat."

"Layne-"

"She uses her condition as an excuse," Layne continued, "and-"

"Layne! Please just tell me more about my nephew, okay? I'd much rather hear about him."

"Oh." Layne sounded a little sheepish. "Well, all right. He's got your hair."

"Mom said." Blaine smiled. "Eyes?"

"My eyes- more green than gold. And these dimples, Blaine, they're adorable."

"I can't _wait _to meet him."

"And I can't wait to meet _him_. I'm sure I'll love him."

"I love you, Layne," he whispered."

"_I love you,_" she said back fervently, like she did every time, as if the intensity of her words might make up for the number of people who refused to love him because of who he was.

He hung up, actually feeling marginally better about things, for once.

xxxxx

"Do you think he might be dead?" Puck's voice asked.

He could almost _feel _the hand approaching his hair. "Don't even think about it, Finn Hudson," he said, without opening his eyes.

There was a loud thud and an "oh my god", and then some obnoxious laughter. More than two people's obnoxious laughter.

This intrigued him, so he opened his eyes and sat up. Finn was sprawled on the floor, rubbing his head and looking dazed. Puck was laying across the couch, a game controller in his hand, and Mike was sitting on the floor and eating something disgusting out of a can.

"Dude, you sleep like a rock," Puck said, punctuating his sentence with a series of gunshots. "We all thought you were dead."

"I told you he'd wake up if you tried to touch his hair," Mike said, around a mouthful of Chef Boyardee.

Kurt let himself slump back onto the pillows. "What time is it?" he asked in a slightly scratchy voice.

Finn checked the clock. "One. You kind of missed most of the day, bro."

And goddammit, today was supposed to be his shopping day, too. He grimaced as he hauled out of bed and headed for the stairs.

"Wait a second, wait," Puck said, tearing his eyes from the TV screen and pressing the pause button on his controller. "We're supposed to be grilling you about that prep school."

Kurt sighed and rolled his eyes. He should've expected this. "No, they're not all gay. Yes, there's a football team but I'm not joining it. No, I'm not dating any of them."

"Dude, that's not what he meant," Finn said.

"What _did_ you mean, Puckerman?" Kurt asked shortly, folding his arms.

"Like- are they treating you right? Cuz I _will _kick their private-school asses."

"You don't have to worry about that, Puck," Kurt said tightly. "There's a zero-tolerance no-harassment policy, and it's strictly enforced. And they don't have a slushie machine." He allowed himself a smile. "So even if someone _did_ have a problem with me, they couldn't do anything about it."

"Also not what Puck meant, although it's good to hear," Mike said.

Puck shifted, looking uncomfortable. "I mean, are they treating you right?"

In a flash of understanding, Kurt realized that what Puck was really trying to ask was how Kurt was _doing_. If he was okay, if he was fitting in, if he'd made friends, if he was happy.

"I got to sing lead in a duet," Kurt said quietly. "Classes are hard, but Wes gave me a credit card to a spa his aunt works at, and David sent me over his old coffee maker, although I have my suspicions he bought it brand new for me and just doesn't want me to feel bad about that. And Blaine-" he faltered a little. "Blaine helps me, too," he finished.

Puck looked relieved. "They all queer too?"

Sometime in the past, that would've stung. But now, Kurt knew that Puck didn't mean it offensively. He just wanted to know.

"Wes and David are straight. Blaine's gay."

Puck nodded, then seemed to decide that he was finished with interrogating Kurt. He picked up his controller and started blasting aliens again.

Mike walked over to Kurt, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You know we're always here for you, right?"

It registered to Kurt that Mike had never once slushied him, never once locker-checked him or thrown him into dumpsters, even before they were on Glee together. He'd never even made a gay joke or called Kurt "lady" or tried to cover himself up when Kurt walked past him in the locker room.

He sort of wondered how he'd never noticed that before.

"Thank you, Mike," he said softly.

He was actually surprised when Mike started to walk up the stairs with him.

"So Blaine, he's not your boyfriend?" Mike asked, and it almost surprised Kurt how easily the word slipped from the other boy's lips. As if it were normal.

Kurt just stared at him.

Mike waited patiently.

"Uh, no, he's not," Kurt said uncertainly.

"So I don't have to threaten him with bodily harm," Mike confirmed.

"Why would you threaten him?" Kurt asked, completely bemused.

"Cuz it's what we _do_," Mike said, looking just as confused as Kurt. "When someone gets a boyfriend."

"And that's sure to make him want to date me, of course," Kurt said, dryly. "No, he's just a friend, I promise."

Mike breathed a sigh of relief. "I really didn't want to threaten Blaine. He's a good guy."

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked, feeling as if he was missing something.

"Plus, he's so much smaller than me, it wouldn't feel right," Mike continued.

"I'm sorry, you _know_ Blaine? Personally?"

"The Asian Community." Mike said solemnly. "It's very tight."

"Wait, what?" Kurt asked blankly, but Mike was already headed back down the stairs.

Before he really could think it through, Kurt pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Blaine.

**KURT: **Are you Asian?

Blaine stared down at the phone, wondering what was going on and if maybe the lack of sleep was really starting to get to him.

**BLAINE:** Yeah, I'm half-Filipino. Why?

The next text came back almost a second later.

**KURT: ** Do you know Mike Chang?

Blaine laughed to himself. Kurt clearly wasn't familiar with Asian life at all.

**BLAINE:** Which one?

**KURT: **thin, good-looking, nice abs. Good dancer.

Oh, right. That one.

**BLAINE: **met him four years ago at the Asian Community Center in Lima. Right before I transferred.

**KURT: **This doesn't mean you're off the hook, you know.

Blaine grimaced to himself.

**BLAINE: **So why'd you request private use of the choir room?

**KURT:** see you tomorrow, Blaine.

Well, _that _wasn't the weirdest texting conversation he'd ever had.

His phone buzzed again.

**WES: **Do you have a box of cake mix somewhere in your room? David's going crazy studying for math exam. Swears cupcakes are the only answer. Also, do you still have those firecrackers from last 4th of July?

**BLAINE:** Is it weird that those processed as normal questions in my brain?

xxxxx

"I kind of want a trench coat," Mercedes said, flipping a page in the magazine she was reading. She was lounging across Kurt's bed while Kurt sat on his desk trying to dig through hundreds of old files to find the Biology report he was sure he'd turned in (his teacher was equally as sure that he hadn't).

"Don't go with white if you do," he said absently, clicking on a folder labeled "ejhtrehghfvsd" (why couldn't he name them normal things and be more organized?). "You'll never get artificial coloring and corn syrup out of a white trench."

"They haven't been doing that as much," she said, closing the magazine. "Karofsky, at least, has laid off the slushies. I think he got the hint when you transferred."

"Maybe," Kurt said dubiously.

She seemed to get the message, and didn't push it any further. "So what do you want to do today?"

He closed his laptop with a sigh, resigning himself to the fact that he must have done the report using Blaine's laptop. _That _was going to be an awkward conversation.

"Do you want to call Tina?" he asked. "We could go bowling. I haven't been since- well, forever."

She rolled over to grab her cell phone, which was lying on the table. "Give me five minutes. Tina hates bowling, but I'm sure I can talk her into it."

She got up to call Tina, crossing to the other side of the room, and he let his forehead fall to the desk. He really didn't want to spend all night with Mercedes and Tina, as horrible as that sounded. He'd missed them terribly, but he was in a mood where he really just wanted to be _alone_.

Tina ended up actually having plans with Mike that night, so it was just the two of them that went bowling together.

They got sodas first (diet coke for Kurt, root beer for Mercedes) and sat at one of the booth tables behind the bowling alleys.

Kurt stirred his ice around with his straw, watching the little bubbles rise to the surface. "So how are things with Glee? I only ever get the scoop from you and Finn and sometimes Rachel."

"Sam and Quinn broke up," Mercedes said around her straw. "I have no idea why, because I thought he was really into her. Uh. Artie and Brittany are still going strong. Rachel and Finn are still dancing around each other."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I said how are _things_, not how are the relationships."

"Mr. Schue let me do a cover of the Circle of Life yesterday, first Disney song we've ever done," Mercedes said.

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"It was kind of cool, actually."

"It sounds like it. I always wanted to do Part of Your World, but I didn't think Mr. Schue would go for it."

"Well, why didn't you say anything?" she asked, as if genuinely confused.

He ran his tongue over his teeth slowly, turning his head in a sarcastic, "are-you-serious-right-now?" smile.

She shook her head. "Okay, I get it. But are the Warblers really any better? I mean, you said you didn't get that solo."

He flinched as if she'd hit him. "I didn't get that solo, Mercedes, because I really didn't deserve it. I was working too hard to stick out. They didn't _not _give it to me out of spite or because, for my audition, I sang a song traditionally sung by girls."

"It just seems like Blaine gets all the solos," Mercedes said quietly, looking into her drink.

"Except Blaine's no Rachel Berry, because he happily and _graciously_ steps down when another person gets solos. He _loves_ when other people besides him get solos. He loves when other people have the chance to shine, Mercedes." Kurt inhaled.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Mercedes said, sincerely. "I should've known after meeting him- he's nothing like Rachel. I'm sorry for implying it."

"It's fine," Kurt said, before stiffening, looking over Mercedes' shoulder.

"What?" she turned to look, too, but Kurt stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Mercedes, could you please just trust me on this, and I will tell you later why we need to leave right now, without bowling?"

"Yes," she said, immediately, coming to stand beside him. "What's wrong, Kurt?"

"Just walk," he said quickly, placing a hand on the small of her back to push her forward. "Please, Mercedes, just walk, and trust me on this. Do you still have my keys in your purse?"

"Front pocket."

"Get them out, please." He glanced out of the corner of his eye, toward the front counter.

Karofsky's eyes met his.

He was shaking when they got into the car, and he couldn't explain to Mercedes, and he realized at that moment that it didn't matter how upset he was with Blaine, he just really wanted to talk to him at the moment.

**A/N: GODFUCKINGDAMMIT ZOEY STOP WRITING ANGST. Guys, I PROMISE there is fluff in the next chapter. -bangs head against wall-**


	8. Imperfections

**A/N: THREE DAYS GUYS.**

**I'm literally off the wall in excitement. Sat next to my friend Hannah during one of my lectures today and we just passed notes back and forth non-stop, usually just consisting of the word "KLAINE!" and a bunch of hearts and smilies.**

**Good god, we're both so mature.**

**Has anyone seen the full Bills, Bills, Bills video?**

**Hannah's reaction:**

**Blaine: Guys, I'd say we're ready for regionals.**

**Hannah: I'd say you're ready for my bed.**

**I love her too much. **

**Disclaimer: (dammit I forgot it in the next chapter) I don't own Glee.**

Kurt had no idea what was going to happen.

He talked to Blaine, he told him about Karofsky, he shook and may have even teared up a little and Blaine comforted him.

But Blaine hadn't said sorry, hadn't explained anything, and had ended the call with a soft "I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt."

"I'm driving you home," Finn said, from the doorway. He was holding Kurt's travel suitcase in his hand. "Your dad offered, but I kind of wanted to do it."

Kurt blinked. "O-okay. Just let me grab Pavarotti." He crossed the room to uncover the canary's cage and lifted it into his arms. "Let's go."

"How'd you get landed with a bird, anyway?" Finn asked as they headed up the stairs from Kurt's room.

"It's a tradition in the Warblers," Kurt replied, shifting the cage gently in his arms to make it more stable for Pavarotti. "Newest Warbler gets an actual Warbler. He 'represents my voice'."

Finn looked at him as he threw Kurt's suitcase into the trunk (Kurt winced, imagining the damage most likely done to his clothes). "Isn't that kind of like hazing? I mean, what happens if it dies?"

"I haven't asked," Kurt admitted. "I've been kind of scared to."

"Do you think they'd kick you out of the Warblers?" Finn asked, starting the car.

Kurt's eyes widened. "I don't know. Maybe. Oh, god, Finn, why did you bring that up? Now I'm panicking!"

"Dude, be calm." Finn glanced away from the road for a second to look at Kurt's face. "Just text one of them and ask what the deal is if the bird dies."

Kurt pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to breathe deeply while the thumb of his other hand flew across the keyboard.

Less than a minute later, his phone buzzed with a response.

**WES: **Did you kill it off already?

**KURT: **No! I was just wondering what the consequences would be.

**WES: **Accidents and mistakes happen, so it's not a big deal. Blaine killed his last year.

**WES: **Don't tell him I told you that. He'd kill me.

**KURT: **So I won't get kicked out of the Warblers?

**WES: **You're a countertenor. Having you is like having the moon. We'll only kick you out if you kill a PERSON.

**WES: **... even then, it's iffy. A few of the Warblers are expendable.

Kurt laughed, instantly feeling much better. "Wes says accidents happen if I kill Pav."

"Don't feed him glitter," Finn said seriously.

**KURT: **You're wonderful. I was freaking out, thank you.

**WES: **When are you coming back? Blaine is angsting it out and it's weird for David and I.

**KURT: **... did he tell you what happened?

**WES: **Not really. Just that he screwed up and needs to apologize.

**KURT: **THAT'S an understatement.

**WES: **Just hear him out, ok? He really is sorry.

**KURT: **I'll believe that when I see it. I'm about an hour away.

**WES: **Hurry back.

Kurt had almost expected Blaine to be waiting outside his room for him when he got back, complete with roses and a box of chocolate and a sheepish and apologetic grin.

Okay, so he hadn't expected it. Maybe he'd just fantasized about it a little bit.

But Blaine wasn't there, so he shrugged and folded his clothes back into his closet, resigning himself to another week of wearing the same tie, blazer, and dress pants.

Finn glanced around the room. "Small."

"Finn, it's a single room."

"It's still small." He set Kurt's suitcase on his bed, then got a funny look on his face. "You don't share with Blaine, do you?"

"Finn, it's a _single room_."

He hadn't expected _that look_ to cross Finn's face. "That doesn't mean _anything_."

"_Finn!_"

He didn't actually _see_ Blaine until dinner that night, when he strode into the dining hall with his chin held high and his bitchiest runway face in place. Inside, he was trying frantically to figure out where to sit, what to do, and what to say.

They'd saved a seat for him at their usual table, and since he wasn't mad at Wes and David, it felt rude to just ignore them.

Unfortunately, the seat they'd saved for him was also the one that was next to Blaine.

He sat down stiffly, returning the group's greetings, and didn't really talk for the rest of the meal. He poked at his salad and grilled chicken breast, listening to Wes and David tell stories about their weekends. Wes was demanding to know who gave Flint matches and David was describing a particularly riveting chess game between Blaine and… Blaine. Apparently Blaine had lost in the end. Kurt tried very hard to act as if it all made perfect sense.

As Wes and David stood up, Kurt snuck a look at Blaine, who hadn't spoken a word all meal either. Clearly feeling Kurt's eyes on him, he looked up and said quietly, "could you maybe meet me in the choir room at eight o'clock?"

For some reason, the look in Blaine's eyes made his heartbeat quicken. "Sure," he responded, equally as quiet.

xxxxx

Blaine had to pull about fifty strings just to _get _ the choir room from seven-thirty to nine at such short notice. He'd almost had to sell his soul to Wes just for it to happen. So he really, _really_ hoped Kurt wouldn't blow this off in his righteous fit of rage.

Especially since he really couldn't remember the last time he'd actually _serenaded _someone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd played his guitar _for_ someone else.

Music wouldn't fix this. He knew that. He wasn't naïve or stupid. But with someone like Kurt, music could help.

He set his laptop up on the stool of the straight-back piano, opening garage band and setting the timer on the drumbeat so that it would play in time with his guitar. He would have preferred to perform with just his voice and his guitar, but some sacrifices had to be made when you found the perfect song for your situation.

His phone buzzed from where he'd left it on the piano keys. He crossed the room as it buzzed three more times, indicating that it was not a text, but a phone call.

He smiled at the name and picture flashing across the screen, and picked the phone up, holding it to his ear. "Hi, Layne."

"Did you talk to Kurt yet?" she asked enthusiastically.

He sighed, but smiled fondly. "No, Layne. I've barely even seen him yet."

"But you are telling him?"

"Soon, yes, I will be. Tonight."

"How do you think he'll react?" Layne asked, and Blaine could hear a soft clinking coming from her end of the phone. Layne liked to do dishes while she talked on the phone.

"I honestly have no idea," Blaine said, feeling the butterflies flaring up in his stomach. "I was sort of... rude when I blew him off."

"You need to stop fixating on that," Layne said sternly. "If all that you've said about Kurt is true, then he isn't going to judge you or be angry. He'll understand."

Blaine heard a muffled thump as she shifted the phone to her other ear. "So how are Wes and David? I forgot to ask about them yesterday."

"Wes and his girlfriend broke up."

"Again?" Layne asked, and they both laughed.

"David made prefect this year. And both of them are on the Warblers' council."

Layne whistled appreciatively. "Nice."

"Layne-" Blaine hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Do you think you could send my violin to school?"

"Blaine," she breathed. "You haven't played the violin in years."

"I want to start again," he said. "I feel like I need to. I miss it."

"You don't know how happy that makes me," Layne murmured. "I've missed you playing so much. It used to make you so happy."

"I think I'm ready to be really happy again," he said. "Even if Wes and David might pick on me for playing-"

"Oh, give them more credit than that," Layne interrupted. "Wes plays the _kazoo_."

"I honestly don't think you could really call that playing." Blaine laughed, then glanced at the clock. He was about to tell Layne that he had to go finish setting up when a baby's wail started up in the background.

Layne sighed. "And, that's my cue. Good luck with Kurt."

"I love you," he said.

"_I love you,_" she said, as always, and they hung up.

He was running through his scales, singing softly to himself, when he heard a slight cough at the door.

He whirled around. "You're early."

Kurt clutched at the shoulder strap on his bag. "I was passing by and I heard you already in here. If you're not ready, I can go-" he said, starting to turn.

"No," Blaine said, quickly, "no, that's fine, you just startled me, that's all."

Kurt entered hesitantly, his eyes falling on the guitar in Blaine's hands. "What's that for?"

"I'm going to sing to you," Blaine said simply.

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "If you really think _that _is going to help-"

Blaine held up a hand. "No, I don't think it's going to help or fix anything. But I need to sing this to you, before I can explain anything. Because this song works for you. For both of us, actually."

They just looked at each other for a long moment, Kurt's eyes searching his. Finally, he nodded. "Okay."

Blaine tilted his head to the couch. "Sit down."

Kurt sat without question.

Blaine pressed the space bar on the laptop and positioned the guitar in his arms. After a moment, the drumbeats began, and he started to strum along softly to the music, keeping his eyes locked on Kurt.

_You took your hits_

_ with the bruises on the soles of your feet_

_ well, who's to say if they're deserved? _

_ But you're turning reckless now_

_ I hear you saying through your teeth_

_ that you'll take them down first_

He could see Kurt straightening up, taking attention to the lyrics. It was only to be expected- it was amazing, that there was a song out there that could say everything they'd ever been through and everything they were going through.

_But I saw you flinch_

_ when the doctors got their claws in you_

_ I saw your smile start to crack_

_ It's not so funny when you're sunk _

_ and there ain't nothing you can do_

_ and your options are all dead ends … _

He made sure Kurt's eyes were locked on his as he started in with the chorus, made sure Kurt knew that this, Blaine was singing this for him. And that he meant every word.

_When there's no way out_

_ I'll let you build your home with me_

_ till the clocks run down_

_ when your luck's run out_

_ call me and I will come and fix you_

_ get your feet on the ground_

_ when there's no way out_

_ call me and I will come unbury you_

_ all safe and sound… _

There was something in Kurt's eyes- something Blaine didn't quite know how to interpret or understand.

_Heard they broke you… _

_ that you gave in…_

_ that you dropped,_

_ and the fight had left you_

_ but don't you worry…_

_ makes no difference_

_ from the start, _

_ your options were all dead ends…_

His hand was shaking a little on the guitar, but he plowed on.

_When there's no way out, _

_ I'll let you build your home with me _

_ till the clocks run down_

_ when your luck's run out_

_ call me and I will come and fix you_

_ get your feet on the ground_

_ when there's no way out_

_ call me and I will come and bury you,_

_ all safe and sound… _

He let the guitar trail out, gazing at Kurt.

Kurt's eyes were brighter than usual, which meant it was working. Which meant he couldn't stop now. He couldn't explain everything-not how he felt about Kurt, even though he knew that was most of the reason he'd ran, but he could tell him about his family. He owed Kurt at least that.

"I have two sisters," he began, stroking his fingers over the neck of the guitar. The silkiness of the wood somehow had a sort of calming effect. "Layne and Jane."

"Your parents were big on rhyming, huh?" Kurt asked, with a smirk.

Blaine made a face. "Don't start with me, your father's name is _Burt_."

"Touche," said Kurt, and waved his hand for Blaine to continue.

"Layne is twenty-three," he said, "and married. She and I have been close my entire life- she's always sort of looked over me. For a very long time, she was my best friend. I don't get to see her as much now- I transferred to Dalton around the same time as she got married- but she just had a son, and she named him Blaine."

Kurt smiled softly. "She sounds lovely."

"She is," he said shortly.

He took a deep breath. Here was the hard part. "Jane is my twin."

Kurt's eyes widened. "I didn't know you had a-"

"Not many people do." He could feel his voice threatening to crack, _already_. "She has osteogenesis imperfecta. I don't know if you already know what that is, but it basically means her bones are extraordinarily brittle. A normal touch- bumping her hip up against a chair, stepping down too hard, stubbing her toe- and of those could easily cause her to break a bone. She's in the emergency room several times a week. She's tiny, and delicate- it's a trademark of someone with osteogenesis imperfecta. I broke several of her bones just by being with her in the womb. Because I was there, they didn't know if she would survive. They had to perform a C-section to get us both out safely.

"I've been protective of her my entire life- she's my little sister, she's delicate, her life span is going to be so much shorter than mine. She misses so much because she's too delicate to experience it."

"Oh, Blaine-" Kurt began, but Blaine held up a hand.

"The worst part is," he said quietly, plucking at the strings on his guitar, not looking at Kurt anymore, "it's something she can't help. She gets teased and stared at and made fun of for who she is, and it's for something she has no control over. And I love her despite of and for it.

"But she hasn't spoken more than two words to me in four years, since I came out to my family. I accept her unconditionally for something she can't control, but she can't do the same for me." He could feel a tear trailing hot down his cheek. "The rest of my family doesn't care. They love me. They support me. But my _twin sister_- the one who should understand the most- can't even look at me anymore."

Within a second, Kurt was at his side and had his arm around Blaine's shoulders, tipping the other boy into his chest. He held Blaine tightly, stroking a hand over his hair. The guitar was crushed awkwardly between their bodies, but Kurt didn't seem to notice.

Blaine pulled back, embarrassed to meet Kurt's eyes, scared about what he'd see there.

"Courage," Kurt breathed, and the cheesiness of the situation was enough to make Blaine smile to himself and look up.

Kurt's eyes were pale, pale gray and very close to his. "I am so sorry, Blaine."

"I'm sorry for avoiding you," Blaine's voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat. "It wasn't right of me to take that out on you and I'm really, really sorry."

"You are so forgiven," Kurt said sincerely, holding Blaine's hands between his. "Blaine, you shouldn't even have to apologize after that. I shouldn't have over-reacted before I knew the whole situation."

"You had every right to." The tears were starting to dry on his face, making his skin feel stiff and slightly itchy.

"No, I didn't, and don't argue with me," Kurt said. "We are _so completely fine_ now."

"There's another thing, too." Blaine hesitated. "I want you to meet my family."

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Are- are you sure? You just said- your sister, I mean-"

"Jane won't talk to my friends whether they're gay or straight," Blaine said harshly. "And she won't give you a hard time, either. She'll just essentially ignore you."

"Have they met other friends?" Kurt asked, and there was a tone to his voice that Blaine didn't quite understand.

"Wes and David. That's all."

"I would love to meet your family, Blaine," Kurt said, a small and hesitant smile appearing on his face.

"Layne really wants to meet you," Blaine said. "I've told her so much-" he broke off mid-sentence, frightened he'd said too much. Because really, he and Kurt _just _made up. No need to scare him off already.

"Nothing bad, I hope," Kurt teased.

Blaine smiled, relieved. "Not at all. The opposite, in fact."

"Thank you for the song, Blaine," Kurt said softly.

"Now will you tell me why you rented out the choir room for Tuesday?"

"I still have absolutely no idea how you found out," Kurt said, shaking his head and pulling his bag up beside him. "So the council granted my request?"

"That's a yes. And I have my ways," he said mysteriously, then laughed. "Actually, no, Thad told me."

"Damn him."

Blaine waited patiently.

"It's Mercedes' birthday," he said quietly, looking at his hands. "The group wanted to have a party, but we couldn't find a place to have it. So I thought- as long as they all behave, we could use the choir room. I appealed to Wes and Thad and they said they'd think about it." He shrugged. "I guess they decided it was fine."

Blaine nodded. "It's nice of you to remember your friend. Do something nice for her."

"When-" Kurt hesitated, looking uncharacteristically shy. "When do you want me to come meet your family?"

"I was thinking I could go home this weekend and bring you with me, if that's all right," Blaine said, carefully. "Check with your family first, of course. I don't want to impose upon family time."

"This is important to you," Kurt said firmly. "My dad will understand. This weekend will be fine. Please tell your family and send them my thanks for having me over."

For a moment, all he could do was stare at Kurt in wonder. How could he be so absolutely understanding and not in the slightest bit angry at Blaine for treating him the way he had? It literally blew his mind away.

Kurt tilted his head, smiling. "How 'bout that movie night?"

There was another amazing thing. When Wes and David had found out about Jane and all of the uncomfortable baggage that came with her, they'd wanted to talk about her all night, picking through every last detail of Blaine's childhood with her, which was really just _painful_. He'd already lived through it once, thanks, and he didn't need to talk it over with his friends. For some reason, Kurt seemed to get that without being told.

Blaine realized when he was being fed a distraction, and right now, Kurt was feeding him a distraction. But he accepted it gratefully.

He grinned happily back, and linked his arm through Kurt's. "Sounds amazing. You choose."

"I picked last time," Kurt argued back.

"You know that if you pick you'll actually choose something interesting that I probably haven't seen. If I pick I'll choose 'Princess Bride', like I always do."

Kurt fairly beamed at him, a rare occurrence. "That's fine with me."

Blaine sort of lost his train of thought, which was what usually happened when he caught a glimpse of Kurt's tongue poking out between his teeth.

Kurt's room was closer (and emptier), so they settled on that one. Blaine dove immediately onto Kurt's immaculately made bed, rumpling all the covers into a messy heap and laughing at the disgruntled look on Kurt's face.

Kurt simply sniffed and turned away from Blaine to search for the DVD. Blaine took the opportunity to inhale deeply, pushing his nose into the comforter. It smelled just like Kurt- vanilla and something floral and something spicy, all at once. He felt a little light-headed.

Kurt straightened up, waving the disc triumphantly. "Found it, and not a scratch on it," he said proudly, inserting it into the DVD drive and positioning the laptop on his bedside table before going to sit beside Blaine on the bed.

Their shoulders touched and pressed against each other, and before he knew it, he was leaning on Kurt, tipping his head onto Kurt's shoulder. The heady scent filled his nose again, this time coming from the boy himself.

He felt Kurt's arm snake around his waist as the grandfather opened the book and began with chapter one, and as Buttercup rode her horse across a meadow towards the farm, he felt his eyelids begin to droop. Kurt's fingers were tracing patterns against his oxford, and the heat permeated through his shirt all the way to his skin.

Something about the way Kurt slid back further against the headboard caused Blaine's head to slip further forward onto Kurt's chest, until he could hear Kurt's heartbeat in his ear. The other boy's sweater was wonderfully soft and warm, and Blaine's head rose and fell with every breath Kurt took. His hand tightened on Blaine's hip, and Blaine's eyelids fell completely shut.

"I can stop the movie if you want to sleep," Kurt murmured, and Blaine could actually feel the words as well as hear them, rumbling through Kurt's chest. A strange part of him wanted to laugh at the sensation.

"No," he mumbled sleepily, "keep playing it. I like listening."

In a whisper Blaine hardly heard, Kurt said, "_As you wish_."

Maybe if Blaine had been more awake (or had more than about six hours of sleep total in the last few days), he would have recognized and understood the meaning behind that _particular_ Princess Bride quote.

As it was, his insomnia-addled brain merely thought, "_are we at that part already?" _and _"how did Kurt know that was my favorite part of the movie?_" as he slipped further and further away from consciousness.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Blaine fell asleep, and slept through the night.

**A/N: There ya go, crazies. A fluffy ending for you all. Phew. I thought I was losing my ability to be fluffy.**

** No, I'm actually not kidding. I really was panicking over the total lack of fluff and all the angst. O_O I DON'T LIKE ANGST. I LOVE ME SOME FLUFF.**


	9. Carnival

**A/N: I needed to get this out before SLS tomorrow. The spoilers are alternatively making me happy and sad and now I have whiplash. So enjoy some more cutesy Klaine (at least compared to the other chapters in this story), and I'm sorry this chapter took longer than usual.**

**I actually had to forbid myself from going onto Tumblr until this was finished. I love you all. You're wonderful.**

**Don't give up on Klaine, guys.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, if I would, Klaine would... be together. A lot. And wearing matching argyle socks and buying each other biscotti and ordering coffee for each other. Yes.**

It was such a comforting feeling when Blaine fell into step with Kurt between classes and grinned at him, nudging his shoulder. Like everything was _right_ in the world (never mind the insane amount of butterflies that magically appeared in his stomach at the other boy's charming smile).

"I am going to _die_," Kurt groaned, trying to shift the books in his arms into a more comfortable position. "I have three essays due on the same damn day."

"Welcome to Dalton life." Blaine sighed. "I'm almost absolutely sure that the administration doesn't want us to have a social life." He said the last in a conspiratorial tone, leaning a little closer to Kurt and raising his eyebrows. "It's a conspiracy."

Kurt laughed out loud, hugging his books more tightly and trying to flex his tired fingers.

"Can I take those?" Blaine offered.

Kurt's heartbeat quickened a little, and he had to remind himself that Blaine was merely being polite. "No, I can handle it."

The books were gone from his arms before he could even blink. Blaine cradled them carefully, smiling at Kurt. "I remember how it is," he said. "Your arms are exhausted. It's the least I can do."

A hesitant smile appeared on Kurt's face. It had been so much easier to deny his feelings for Blaine when he'd been being sort of an asshole. But when he was charming like this, Kurt just didn't know how to handle it. "Thank you."

"Any time," Blaine said, sincerely. "I mean that. Any time you need help- with school, with whatever, please tell me. I'd be happy to help."

"Only if you promise to do the same," Kurt said, stopping outside his classroom.

Blaine stopped, too. "What do you mean by that?"

Kurt rolled her eyes. "If you ever need help. And I know you sometimes do, Wes said you were failing French."

A delicious flush crept its way up Blaine's cheekbones. "I have to tell him to keep his mouth shut."

Kurt's lips twitched. "It's not his fault he's a terrible gossip. Repeat after me, Blaine: I promise to ask Kurt if I need help."

"I promise to ask Kurt if I need help," Blaine repeated obediently.

"Good boy," Kurt said, and Blaine handed his books back to him. Kurt turned to go into his classroom, but Blaine stopped him.

"Wait a second, Kurt."

Kurt turned back around.

"They have some really good duet ideas for us," Blaine said. Kurt didn't have to ask who "they" was. The Warbler Council was in charge of song selection for everything. "Wes is really excited about your voice- we have a hard time with matching other people to my voice for duets, but our voices mesh very well together, for some reason."

Kurt felt his heartbeat quicken. Blaine was smiling at him with such _warmth _in those honey-colored eyes. He felt like he may have had a really stupid expression on his face.

"I just thought you should know," Blaine said, and winked.

_Winked._

Kurt stood there, open-mouthed and shell-shocked, for several moments after Blaine had already strode away.

_There's a fine, fine line, _he reminded himself, shaking his head, and entered his classroom.

He decided it was mostly Blaine's fault that he was distracted throughout his History class (which is really something one couldn't afford to have happen at Dalton), because he couldn't stop thinking about the other boy's hands, and eyes, and teeth, and lips...

And he always stopped himself there, because he was _so not going there._

It was so nice that they were okay again. Better than okay. It felt as if that final barrier between the two of them- the secret that Blaine had been keeping about his family- was finally gone. They knew so much about each other.

Blaine found him again after History, taking Kurt's books from him again without saying a word this time.

"I'm not a girl," Kurt protested.

"I never said you were. And tomorrow, when I'm ridiculously overloaded with books because my English teacher is insane, you can repay the favour."

"I look forward to it," Kurt said, and okay, maybe he was flirting a little, but why not? Blaine wasn't flinching or doing that shifty-eye thing Finn and Sam had done, or excusing himself awkwardly to make a quick getaway.

Quite the contrary, actually. Blaine nudged his shoulder against Kurt's (he seemed to do that a lot- Kurt made a mental note to check if that was ordinary for Blaine or if he only did that with Kurt). "And I have to thank you."

"For what?" Kurt asked, nonplussed.

"For solving my insomnia." Blaine caught Kurt's expression. "Oh, right. I forgot you didn't know about that. Well, it seems that if I put the Princess Bride on when I go to bed and wrap myself in something really warm, I can sleep."

"Really warm?" Kurt asked, unable to remember an electric blanket of any sort on Blaine's bed.

"Well, you were the 'something warm' last night, but I'm sure an electric blanket will work almost as well," Blaine said, and Kurt couldn't figure out if he was imagining Blaine's ears turning pink.

"And you can't normally sleep?" Kurt asked in concern.

Blaine shrugged. "Stress-related insomnia. A lot of people have it at Dalton. Wes does, too. David eats his stress."

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Stress affects different people in different ways," Blaine said, shrugging. "My eating habits are stable, but Andrew eats like a bird. Flint gets moody as all hell."

"I may have experienced that side of him before," Kurt said. "I accidentally stepped on the heel of his shoe and he threatened to disembowel me."

Blaine nodded. "He's the most verbally violent person I know, which is funny because in real life he would never hurt a fly."

Kurt opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Wes' arm being thrown around his shoulder. David's smiling face appeared next to Blaine.

"Hello, chaps," Wes said, with a far-too-innocent grin plastered across his face. "What are you up to?"

Kurt flashed a glance at Blaine, who was shaking his head in amusement. "We're heading to lunch, the same as you are."

"False," said David cheerfully, looping his arm around Blaine's shoulders. Now they were both trapped. Kurt shot a semi-panicked look at Blaine.

"False?" Blaine questioned weakly, as Wes and David spun them around and began to march them in the opposite direction.

"We are going out for a day on the town," Wes said firmly.

Eric caught Kurt's eyes and mouthed "I'm sorry."

Kurt yanked his arm from Wes' grasp. "In case you've forgotten in your fit of psychotic insanity, Wes, we have _class_ after lunch."

David sighed in mock dismay, shaking his head sadly. "You really don't listen to announcements, do you?"

"No?" Kurt said slowly. It was a habit he'd developed at McKinley. Most of the announcements there involved medical concerns about the cafeteria food.

"There's some sort of visiting dignitary," Blaine explained. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

"It's musical day at the King's Island Theatre," Wes said. "They're playing Sound of Music in about an hour. Little Shop of Horrors is going on right now, but I didn't think that we would get there in time."

"David, you hate musicals," Blaine said slowly.

David shuffled from foot to foot. "I know, but-"

"What's this all about?" Blaine asked, his eyes shifting between the two of them.

"It's my favorite movie," Kurt said suddenly.

The other three turned to look at him.

But he saw the look in Wes and David's eyes. The look that said they _knew _it was Kurt's favorite movie, and that was exactly why they were risking the sacrifice of their man-cards to take Blaine and Kurt to see it.

"It was my mom's favorite, too," Kurt added, when nobody said anything.

Blaine was staring at him. "That's my favorite movie," he said, with something akin to wonder in his eyes.

Something in Kurt's chest frayed an snapped at this, at the look on Blaine's face, because there was _no way _this moment could possibly be that perfect.

Blaine broke their eye-lock to gesture between Wes and David. "They sort of hate it, though."

"Dude, we didn't even know you liked the movie," David protested.

Blaine rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Of course I wouldn't tell you. You wouldn't care."

"Idiot, we still _care_," Wes said affectionately. "You never gave a flying fuck about football before, but you always watch-" he broke off as Kurt doubled over in laughter. "What's going on?"

Kurt gasped a little. "You just said- you- 'flying f-'" and then he lost it again, wiping his eyes and positively cackling.

Wes opened his mouth a little to respond, but didn't seem to know what to say. He shook his head and turned to Blaine.

"Anyway-"

"You have to_ tell_ us when you like something," David jumped in. "We can't always be doing stuff Wes and I want to do. That isn't fair. And it's not how it works."

Blaine just blinked. "I- uh-"

Kurt, having recovered, nudged him and grinned. "I told you to just be yourself."

"Like anyone ever actually follows that advice," David said, pushing Blaine into the back seat of Wes' car. Kurt was pushed in similarly, sliding across the leather seats until he bumped into Blaine.

"Buckle up," Wes said cheerfully, getting into the driver's seat.

There was an intense music battle the whole way to King's Island. Blaine wanted Katy Perry (of course), Kurt wanted Lady Gaga, Wes wanted Beatles, and David wanted Panic! At the Disco. Wes won, after threatening to forcibly eject them all from the car. They spent the rest of the ride listening to the woeful tale of Eleanor Rigby and singing along to Yellow Submarine at the top of their lungs.

Blaine fell back beside Kurt as they walked towards the theatre. "Thank you, again," he said in a low voice.

Kurt looked at him in surprise. "What for?"

"You were right, as always," Blaine said with a slight smile. "Wes and David really… don't care."

Kurt nudged Blaine affectionately. "I told you they wouldn't."

After some minor catastrophes (Wes threw a semi-hissy fit because he wanted popcorn and there was none), they were all situated in their seats in the old theatre, staring at the screen as Maria sang about hills and music.

The first awkward moment came when Blaine and Kurt went for their armrests at the same time. Their arms collided and Kurt felt his heart leap into his throat. Their eyes locked.

Slowly, purposefully, Blaine threaded his fingers through Kurt's. Kurt swallowed, hard.

He couldn't be sure, but as Blaine turned back to the flickering light of the movie screen, his ears appeared to be slightly red.

Sometime during "Do-Re-Mi", Blaine's thumb began to slowly stroke across Kurt's knuckles, ghosting back and forth. Kurt could feel the skin on his arms erupting in goosebumps. His mind was racing. What was Blaine doing? _Why _was he doing it? What was he supposed to do? He suddenly felt fidgety and unbalanced. He wanted to know _so badly_ what Blaine could possibly be thinking.

Blaine didn't release Kurt's hand when the movie ended and the lights came on. Wes raised his eyebrows at Kurt, but didn't comment.

Blaine swung their hands slightly as they exited the theatre. "Where to now?"

Wes checked his watch. "The winter carnival's still open, if you want to go there."

"Bumper cars!" Blaine said enthusiastically (and rather unexpectedly), starting to run and dragging Kurt behind him.

There was hardly any line (it _was_ about forty-five degrees outside), so Blaine dragged Kurt up to the front, and got into a shiny red car, sliding over to the driver's seat. Kurt started to pull away, to find his own car, but Blaine's grip tightened on his hand. Kurt turned back to look at him and Blaine tugged, grinning, patting the seat next to him with his free hand.

Kurt could feel the blush rising up his cheeks as he stepped into the car. It was so small- not meant for two high school boys, no matter how slender they both were. They were pressed hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder.

And Blaine _still _hadn't released his hand.

Wes and David caught up eventually and chose yellow and purple cars, respectively. They were very nearly the only people playing, besides an old man and his grandson and a couple of teenage girls in uniforms.

Kurt had fully expected Blaine to steer directly towards David and Wes for the attack, and vice versa. Instead, all three of the boys chose to target the group of girls in pleated skirts and matching sweaters.

Blaine and Kurt's car was the first to reach them, and Blaine rammed their front bumper into one of the girl's rear bumper with a vicious grin. She yelped, then threw a fierce glare at them.

From the other side, Wes and David hit two other girls' cars. One redhead whipped her head around wildly. "War!" she cried with a wicked grin, throwing her fist in the air.

She and the dark-skinned girl she was sharing the car with slammed their car around into Blaine's. She and Kurt locked eyes, and he shot her one of his best glares.

To his surprise, she grinned back, then leaned forward over the front of the car. "I love your scarf."

The girl with her giggled.

Kurt felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile. "Oh, it's on, bitches."

The redhead laughed, spinning the wheel and reverse-slamming into Wes, who flew into his steering wheel, shaking his fist at the girl.

Blaine let Kurt have control of the wheel as they steered towards one of the other cars, a tall blond girl sitting alone. At their approach, she tried frantically to reverse, but hadn't seemed to have learned how to control her car quite yet. Kurt and Blaine's vehicle hit hers with a satisfying "thud".

The machines shut off with a loud whir just as Kurt was aiming their car towards the redhead's again. All of them groaned, including the girls.

Kurt slid nimbly from the car, releasing Blaine's hand. Blaine tried to hop out after Kurt, but his foot caught on the bar and he stumbled, falling face-first toward the ground. Kurt reached out an arm instinctively to catch him around the waist, stopping his fall.

Wes and David made obnoxious kissing noises.

"I hate you two," Blaine said, blushing as Kurt set him back on his feet.

The redheaded girl marched up to them, a grin spread across her face. "Fair fight, boys."

"Feisty as always," Wes said, winking.

The girl sniffed, turning her nose away from them.

Kurt felt like he was missing something.

He felt that way even more when Wes wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into a kiss.

They both looked a little dazed as they broke apart, and Blaine took that opportunity to explain things to Kurt, whose head was spinning.

"Kurt, this is Gwen Thompson. Wes' girlfriend." He gestured to the other three approaching. "They all go to Madbury Academy in Worthington. Dalton's sister-school, in a way."

Gwen offered a hand. "Kurt, right? I've heard a lot about you. Wes can't stop raving about your voice." She shot a grin at the boy in question.

Kurt turned a little pink, but took her hand. "You sing too?"

Gwen nodded with a smile. "Our Glee Club is called the Nightingales."

"What is it with private schools and birds?" Kurt muttered, and Blaine laughed, slipping his hand into Kurt's.

Gwen didn't miss that. Her eyes flashed down to their hands, and a strange sort of smirk crossed her face. She slowly raised her eyes to Blaine's, and they exchanged a look Kurt didn't really understand.

Another girl reached out her hand to Kurt. "I'm Lily."

She was tall and strikingly beautiful, golden-haired with light brown eyes. Kurt shook her hand with a smile.

"So what are you four doing here?" asked the small, dark girl who'd been sharing her bumper car with Gwen.

"Someone important and famous visiting," David said flippantly, throwing his arm around the fourth girl's shoulder- a curvy brunette with long curly hair and a bright smile."What about you lot?"

"Skipping," Gwen said, with a mischievous smile. "We all have a study after lunch, then Mrs. Ryder for last period."

"Ah," Wes and David said, nodding in understanding.

"Notoriously spacey teacher," Blaine whispered to Kurt. "They all got up and walked out of the class once and she kept on teaching. Didn't even notice."

Kurt smirked.

"Kurt, my girlfriend, Elise," David said, gesturing to the brunette under his arm. "And her best friend, Monica." He waved a hand at the small, dark-skinned girl.

"Can we please go to Luigi's?" Lily asked imploringly, clasping her hands in front of her. "I've been craving their rolls for _weeks_."

"_Months_," Monica amended, rolling her eyes. "She won't stop talking about them."

"They make some really fantastic salads," Blaine said hopefully, looking at Kurt.

Kurt laughed, squeezing Blaine's hand. "What are we waiting for, then?"

By some sort of tricky maneuver, Lily wove between Kurt and Blaine as they walked towards the nearby restaurant and commandeered Blaine's attention.

Kurt was the smallest bit disgruntled until he realized it was a diversion so Gwen and Monica could talk to him.

"So, Kurt," Gwen began, slipping her arm through his and falling into stride with him. "Tell us about yourself."

"This is unnerving," Kurt said honestly, his eyes shifting between the girls linked to either side of him.

Monica blinked at him innocently.

"So you sing," Gwen said. "Countertenor, right?"

"Yes," Kurt said, warily.

"And you transferred to Dalton from William McKinley High School?" Monica asked.

"What for?" Gwen added. "Better academics? More opportunities? Better accepted arts programs? A-"

"-zero tolerance no bullying policy?" Kurt finished quietly.

That effectively killed the conversation.

"_Really?_" Monica breathed.

Kurt felt his jaw tighten. "Really."

Gwen was only thrown off for a minute. "And what about your interests? Wes has only told us about your marvelous voice."

"Clothes. Broadway. French. Cars," he added, as an after-thought.

"Cars?" Monica asked, clearly thrown off.

He felt his lips twitch. People were always so surprised at that. He loved the feeling of breaking the stereotypes that people set the second they lay eyes on him.

"My dad owns an auto shop," he told them. "I learned the trade at a young age. I kind of learned to love it."

Gwen was looking at him with an intrigued expression on her face. "You're an interesting person," she said. "So what are your intentions towards Blaine?"

He choked a little. "What?" he managed to get out.

She gave him one of those looks that _he _was ordinarily so famous for.

"Intentions? I don't-"

"Maybe that was the wrong question," Gwen admitted. "What are your _feelings_ towards him?"

"We are _not _having this conversation," Kurt groaned. "I just met you."

Fortunately, it was at that moment that Blaine broke free of Lily's grasp and moved back to Kurt. He looked at Gwen and Monica, pointedly raising his eyebrows. "Are you two harassing him?"

Gwen held up her hands with an innocent smile.

Relief fell over Kurt as Blaine turned to him with a smile and offered him his arm, which Kurt gratefully took.

"Thank you for saving me," he murmured.

"They can be a little much at first," Blaine whispered back.

They had to push two tables together at Luigi's to fit all of them. With some clever maneuvering, Kurt made sure that he was simultaneously seated beside Blaine and seated as far away from Gwen and Monica as was possible.

It wasn't that he didn't like the two- although he was still withholding judgement on them, if he were to be honest. Gwen seemed to be an absolutely perfect contrast to Wes' uptight nature, and Monica was small and quiet and seemed to actually be really sweet. He just didn't think he could take any more questions about Blaine, and he didn't appreciate their nosiness. His close friends normally weren't that persistent- if he didn't want to tell Mercedes something, she would ask once or twice, and then drop it.

But these girls- they were not only persistent but frighteningly perceptive. He loved Mercedes and everything, but the girl just didn't notice things, or read body language very well. He'd never been very good at it either, if he was being honest with himself. But he could practically see the cogs turning in Gwen's head, and he was terrified of her finding out just how infatuated he was with Blaine.

And, of course, this fear made him all the more _aware_ of the other boy. How close they were sitting, how their fingers brushed every time they reached for something on the table at the same time, because Blaine was left-handed. He could see Gwen scrutinizing every minute action, every interaction he and Blaine had.

Next to him, Blaine cleared his throat softly. Kurt looked at him, and Blaine shook his head, slightly. Kurt looked back to his plate, and saw Blaine's lips move out of the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry about Gwen. I can see she's making you uncomfortable."

"She's scaring me," Kurt said, almost without moving his lips.

"She can be overbearing," Blaine said. "She's protective of her friends."

"I can see that," Kurt muttered back sarcastically.

"She's trying to figure you out," Blaine said, and his hand found Kurt's briefly under the table and squeezed.

Blaine and Kurt were the first to part ways from the girls once they left the restaurant. Wes and David hung back to say goodbye to their girlfriends, and Blaine and Kurt made a break for the car.

"They take some getting used to," Blaine said apologetically as they stood beside the car together, waiting for the other two.

Kurt laughed, his warm breath coming out in puffs in the cold air. "It's fine. I'm used to dealing with the New Directions girls. They're not even bad in comparison."

"They seem to like you, though," Blaine mused, staring off to where Wes and David were still embracing the girls, all the way across the parking lot.

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Really."

Blaine bumped their shoulders together. "Have a little more faith in them. And yourself."

Kurt laughed a little, draping his arm around Blaine's shoulder. "I'm glad of your friends approve of me."

"I haven't the slightest clue as to why they wouldn't," Blaine replied, slipping an arm around his waist, and the swelling feeling in Kurt's chest was almost too much to take.

**A/N: **

**Well that was a not-depressing chapter. I really needed that.**

**Thanks for waiting, all of you!**


	10. Festivites and Insecurities

**A/N: SOOOOOOOOOOOOO I'm at least happy I got this up before tomorrow's episode. That was a goal for me. I've been insanely busy, and I apologize for the delay!**

** Honestly, Puck is so hard for me to write. I got about four or five pages in then just got STUMPED because I had such troubles writing Puck. I still don't think I did him justice.**

** Thank you all, as usual, for your lovely reviews!**

** Now, a few things before I leave you off to read this chapter:**

** about the blind item- I don't believe anything about it. All the spoilers and disclaimers and confirmations and _shit_ surrounding it. None of it. I refuse. I stop reading the "read more" spoiler things on tumblr because they're just driving me nuts.**

** Next- Silly Love Songs. Holy SHIT, you guys, that episode was Klaine-fantastic. I must admit I was sitting there shaking my fist at gap-guy (while simultaneously freaking out over Blaine's breaking of the fourth wall), but I loved so many themes in it. That Klaine is taking this slow (it isn't just another glee hook-up!), that they know each other's coffee orders, that Blaine cares too much about Kurt to ruin this, and that Blaine says he expresses himself best in song, then sings "I love you" to Kurt (don't think I didn't see that Blaine BECAUSE I TOTALLY DID).**

** In conclusion, I LOVE KLAINE.**

** Also, Silly Love Songs is my favorite Paul McCartney song so there was flailing going on there too.**

** Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own.**

"Wes, I'm clearing the table in the choir room so I can use it for Mercedes' party," Kurt called. "I'll just put your stuff outside your door, okay?"

"Do not _touch_ my gavel," came the muffled reply.

Kurt rolled his eyes, continuing past Wes' door and almost running into Blaine, who was stepping out of his room.

Blaine fairly beamed. "Hi!"

"Hey." Kurt nodded to the box in Blaine's arms. "What's that?"

"Party stuff." At Kurt's raised eyebrow, he began to explain. "In September we threw a surprise part for Thad's birthday. He- uh- freaked out a little and everyone ended up taking down the decorations and putting them away. Somehow they were put in my room." He shrugged. "I thought you might want them."

Kurt's lips twitched as he watched color move up Blaine's neck.

"Do you want to help decorate?" He asked finally.

Clearly it was the right thing to say. Blaine beamed at him. "Could I?"

Kurt laughed. "I'm not going to stop you." He swept Wes' personal belongings off the council table into a wooden box (except the precious gavel, which he left sitting on the table). "I'll be right back. Have to bring this to Wes."

Blaine hummed a little to himself while Kurt was gone. He caught himself singing "Baby, it's Cold Outside" under his breath, and oh, he so couldn't go there right now because _that was just going a little too far._ And he was so stupid and he didn't even know then that he liked Kurt. He can't _screw_ this _up_. Kurt means far too much for that and Kurt is far too delicate for that.

He must have been thinking on it for much longer than he thought he had been, because all of the sudden there were footsteps behind him again and Blaine spun around to see Kurt heading into the room with an armful of streamers. He raised an eyebrow at Blaine. "Well, I can see that you've done... nothing."

Blaine laughed. "Got caught up in my own thoughts, I guess."

"Mmm, happens to the best of us." Kurt passed the streamers off to him, then headed towards the window to hang up some blue Christmas tree lights.

It was so quiet for a time that Blaine was sure that if it had been seasonably agreeable, crickets would have been chirping.

"This would go a lot faster if we had a conversation," Kurt said finally, turning from where he was pinning up lights to smile at Blaine. "Talk to me."

Blaine unearthed a fiber optic lamp and began to prise open the back cover in order to replace the long-dead batteries (it may have been switched on since September). "Talk about what? Pick the topic and I'll start."

"Tell me about your past boyfriends," Kurt said, leaning up onto his toes to reach the very top of the window.

Blaine laughed. "That'd be a short conversation, considering there are none."

Kurt spun around so quickly that he nearly fell off the chair, which was probably the least graceful thing Blaine had ever seen him do. He looked genuinely shocked, and Blaine couldn't fathom why.

"Never? You've never had a boyfriend? _Ever_?"

He was actually starting to turn red. "No." He might've snapped it a little.

His mood worsened as Kurt laughed, stepping down from his chair. "Don't take it like that. I'm not making fun of you. That would be a little hypocritical of me, don't you think? I just can't believe that _you_, of all people, have never had a boyfriend."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked, somewhat defensively.

Something in Kurt's eyes shifted, the color paled. "Nothing." He fixed Blaine's tie, which Blaine hadn't realized was messed up. "You think you can handle these streamers by yourself?"

"I am somewhat tempted to turn myself into a mummy," Blaine said seriously. "But I think I can control the urge for long enough to put these up."

"Well, hurry up," Kurt snapped, in that bossy way he had. "We only have two hours." It would have been extraordinarily bitchy if he hadn't seen the slight smile Kurt was wearing as he turned away.

Blaine mock-saluted him, and Kurt punched him lightly in the arm, and they got to work on decorating.

It became almost immediately clear that they both had very different styles and opinions on how, exactly, the decorating should go. Blaine was going for the "space" look- fiber optic lights wherever he could get them (couches, tables, chairs, bookshelves, fireplaces), tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Kurt's look was more refined, more classy- the only thing Blaine could think of when he saw it was "France".

They both looked good, and as different from each other as they were, they looked good _together_. The Rachel-Berry voice in Blaine's head was telling him that it was some sort of symbolism of his and Kurt's friendship or relationship or something, but really, Blaine couldn't care less.

"Break time," Kurt announced, pulling granola bars out of his leather bookbag and tossing one to Blaine. The label was in Swedish.

Blaine held his up. "These aren't going to make me gain crazy weight, are they?"

"Please, no," Kurt said, in an affronted. "They're these weird nutrition bars. My mom uses them to _lose_ weight."

And then they were both doubled over in laughter, wiping tears from their eyes.

They migrated over to the nearest couch that wasn't covered in decorations and lights to eat, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip.

Blaine gnawed on the granola bar that, in all honesty, tasted like the sole of his shoe.

"So, no boyfriends, really?" Kurt asked, and Blaine may have choked a little bit, but he should have expected it, because Kurt was never one to beat around the bush.

When he finished coughing up bits of Swedish granola bar that had stuck in his throat, he said, "uh, no. I mean, a few dates. But no, no real boyfriend. I guess I never-" he cleared his throat. "I never really found the right person."

"Jane couldn't really have helped, either," Kurt said quietly.

Blaine turned his head to look at him, and was immediately reminded of Baby, it's Cold Outside and suddenly felt the uncomfortable urge to _kiss_ Kurt. He looked away. "She never talks to me," he said, in a low voice. "It's more the snide remarks she makes to the rest of the family. Layne tells her off for them, but I think Mom and Dad are scared to because she's so delicate."

"Words don't break people," Kurt said, a little scathingly.

"That's what you think," Blaine said back, thinking of all the ways Jane had broken him in the past, with one sentence indirectly aimed at him.

"They don't," Kurt said gently, sliding one hand over Blaine's on the couch. "I've learned that. Not unless you let them."

Blaine was not going to turn this into a pity party about him. He wrapped his fingers around Kurt's and shot him a smile. "I know, thank you."

Kurt didn't seem exactly convinced. He gave Blaine one of those looks that he was so good at that said "we'll continue this discussion later".

Both of them stood up, untangling their hands and reaching for the box of decorations.

He snuck glances at Kurt as they worked, admiring the soft smile on the other boy's face in contrast with the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the smooth skin stretching over that he wanted to run his fingers over, tracing over the hollows of his cheeks to the curve of his nose-

They never really went away, Blaine mused. The butterflies he got whenever he was around Kurt. The ones he'd been clueless enough to _not_ notice in the first three months of knowing Kurt.

They settled enough so he could enjoy his time with Kurt, joke around, talk to him, laugh with him- but they never quite went away. They stayed there, this warm fluttery feeling in his stomach, reminding him every so often how much he _cared_ about Kurt.

The itch in his fingertips never quite left, either. Sometimes he wanted to touch Kurt so badly it _hurt-_ not one of their friendship touches, a casual arm around the shoulder, a nudge to the ribs, and brush of hand-against-hand. He wanted to lean forward and cup Kurt's face in his palm, to trace one hand over the other boy's chest and feel his heartbeat against his fingers.

"It isn't polite to stare," Kurt said softly, without turning around.

Blaine could feel the blush flooding his cheeks. "I- sorry-" he stammered.

Kurt chuckled, turning around. A light smile was turning up one corner of his mouth. "Kidding," he said. "What's on your mind?"

"Just- thinking," Blaine said. "About you meeting my family."

It wasn't a full-blown lie, just half of one. In one part of his mind he _had _been thinking about Kurt meeting his family- he knew absolutely that Layne was going to love him, and absolutely coo over him. Jane would be icily indifferent, his mother would be overly peppy and bubbly, and his father would approve, because Kurt was well-mannered and knew his way around a car.

"I'm a little nervous," Kurt admitted, stretching up to tape a corner of one of the streamer loops, and Blaine most certainly was not looking at the way Kurt's oxford pulled across his lower back at the motion.

"They'll all love you," Blaine reassured him. "Well- except-"

"I will not be devastated if Jane doesn't love me," Kurt said, laughing a little. He reached out his hand and made a small grabby motion for the tape.

Blaine handed it to him. "That's probably an intelligent choice."

"What are your parents like?" Kurt asked suddenly, sticking the roll of streamers into his mouth as he used both hands to fasten another loop of streamers to the ceiling. He suddenly looked so much like a baby golden retriever that Blaine actually had to look away.

"My dad... he'll like you. He's a car geek and he doesn't enjoy loud people, so he wasn't very fond of Wes and David, but he'll adore you. My mother loves fashion as much as you do so you may end up spending the rest of the night poring over various fashion magazines with her."

"They sound wonderful," Kurt said, pulling the roll out of his mouth. He stepped down from the chair he was on, and rolled up onto his toes, looking like he wanted to say something else.

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him.

"If you don't mind me asking," Kurt said, hesitantly, "how exactly did Jane get her homophobic viewpoints? If your parents are so accepting and forgiving, how did this happen? It seems a little strange to me... in many 'coming-out' cases I've read or heard about, it's the sibling that's supportive and the parent or parents that are unable to accept the child."

Blaine shook his head. "I wish I could tell you. I have no idea how the idea that being gay is wrong or something I can control planted itself into her head."

Kurt interrupted. "I'm sorry, _what_? She thinks it's something you can control? That you _chose _to be gay, just for kicks?"

Blaine nodded, bitterly. "I think that what she believes is that I could easily be straight- and she could never make herself be normal. That while we both have something we're ostracized for, she thinks mine is easily controllable and she resents the fact that hers isn't."

Kurt was staring at him, his mouth hanging open. "I'm sorry, but your sister sounds like a _lunatic_," he said finally.

Blaine shrugged. "Mom and Dad have attempted to correct her a few times, but she doesn't want to listen. They don't push it much. And there haven't been many impassioned speeches about gay rights since Layne moved out after she married her husband."

"This is so, so wrong," Kurt muttered, moving the empty decorating box to the floor. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep my temper around her."

"Try, for my sake," Blaine begged.

Kurt's eyes raised to meet Blaine's. "Tell me, Blaine. You said you were bullied in your old school. Was it guys you didn't know on the football team who threw slushies in your face on a daily basis and shoved you into lockers, or was it your brittle-boned sister, who you loved too much to retaliate against?"

Blaine didn't have an answer.

"Now tell me, Blaine. Who had it worse off, you or I? Because I don't honestly think that you're a coward or you ran away from your problems." He leaned forward, sliding a hand under Blaine's chin, tilting Blaine's face up. "Nobody deserves treatment like that, not in their own home."

And god, moments like this were why he _loved _Kurt so much.

The realization that he loved Kurt didn't hit him like a ton of bricks or a frying pan to the face, as they said in books and movies. It was like a sort of tingling in his scalp, a quick intake of breath, and the sudden knowledge that he would do absolutely _anything_ for this boy. It was warm and comforting and yet frightening at the same time, that someone else could have such a hold over him and not even know it.

Kurt let go of his chin, and picked up the box. "Thank you for helping me decorate, Blaine. It helped me finish early so I can get ready for the party."

"Any time," Blaine said, attempting a smile.

"Stay for the party," Kurt said.

Blaine tried to stop a foolish grin from spreading over his face. "Really?"

Kurt nodded, quickly. "Mercedes likes you and it's her birthday. Stay for the party."

Blaine beamed.

The door creaked open, and both boys' heads turned to see Wes slipping between the oak doors. He held up Kurt's cell phone. "This was in the box that you put outside my door."

"Thank you," Kurt said, fairly rushing over to claim back his phone.

Wes' eyes lighted on the gavel resting on the bookshelf and he moved forward to claim it, cradling it in his hands as if it was made of glass. Blaine rolled his eyes at Kurt.

"Have fun at your party," Wes said, sincerely. "Remember, make good choices."

"Do you google motivational yet morally responsible sayings?" Kurt asked, following him to the door.

"No, they just come to me," Wes said, winking at Blaine. "Oh, right, Kurt- this guy named Noah texted you about six times. I didn't read them, I just thought you should know."

Something in Blaine froze. He cast about wildly in his head, trying to remember a time Kurt may have mentioned someone named "Noah". He came up short every time.

Kurt was looking through the texts now, his eyes lit up, a soft smile curving across his face, and it was almost too much to take. This Noah- this guy- he was someone who made that expression cross Kurt's face, and god, Blaine couldn't deal with this anymore.

He crossed to the door.

Kurt looked up. "Where are you going?"

"Headache," Blaine lied, sure that his face was already twisted up in a grimace of pain, enough to make his story believable.

"Oh." Kurt looked confused. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," Blaine said, pressing his fingertips against his temples for effect. "I think I'll just go lie down for a while."

"Text me if you can't make it to the party," Kurt said, still looking worried. "Are you sure you don't want-"

"I'll be _fine,_ Kurt," Blaine snapped. Then he took a deep breath. He couldn't afford to screw this up with Kurt again. "Sorry. Just- it hurts. I'll try to make it to the party."

"Take two advil and a nap," Kurt advised, just as Blaine slipped out the door.

xxxxx

"How do you think they make these?" Sam asked, examining a cheezit. "Do you think they actually just- like- squish the cheese into cracker shapes and then bake it?"

Quinn was staring at him like he was insane.

Tina and Mike were thumb-wrestling, and Tina was losing (badly). Lauren was standing by the door holding her Twilight book possessively under her arm. She seemed to be examining Dalton for any signs of possible Vampirism. Santana and Brittany were giggling with Artie in the corner.

Mercedes and Rachel were arguing loudly- yet affectionately- with each other about what sort of songs should be playing, until Mercedes played the "it's-my-birthday" card, and Rachel backed off.

Finn was staring open-mouthed at one of the giant bookshelves, and Puck was examining the council table and the crystal water glasses with a disgusted look on his face.

Kurt was sitting on the leather couch with his legs curled under him, a glass of sparkling cider in his hand, examining the festivities with a calm and detached eye, and almost sighing internally. He'd really hoped Blaine would be back for the party, yet he hadn't gotten so much as a text from the boy.

Puck picked up one of the glasses and walked over to him. "How much do these cost?"

"So much that you'd have a lawsuit on your ass if you stole one," Kurt said flatly. "Put it down, Puck."

It was at that moment that Wes burst into the room, his eyes wild.

"Kurt!"

Wes' gaze landed on Kurt first, and then Puck, who was still clutching the crystal glass in his hands.

"Oh my god put that down," Wes said to Puck, hurrying over. He glared at Puck until the other boy set the glass down on the table, then turned his attention to Kurt. "Where's Blaine?"

"He has a headache," Kurt said, trying not to sound as if he cared _too_ much.

Wes' eyes narrowed. "Right." He grabbed at Puck's sleeve, and for the first time Kurt noticed the ever-present gavel clutched in his hand. "I need to talk to you."

"Dude, you guys are _insane_," Puck said, and for once he sounded frightened as he was pulled out of the room with Wes.

Kurt wasn't really one to question what was going on.

xxxxx

Noah Puckerman never knocked. This was a prep school, dude, and he could out-badass any of the wusses in this school any day, except maybe Kurt. That kid had balls. And maybe that scary Asian guy who'd threatened him two minutes ago. Something about him was freaky as hell.

He opened the door to the room. He wouldn't do this normally, especially not after some punk private school pussy tried to force him into it, but damn, that Asian kid and his gavel were actually scary shit when they were turned on him.

As soon as he was in, he eyed the other boy in the room- the one he didn't recognize- and thumbed to the door. "Out. Out. Out."

"I beg your pardon?" The boy asked, and wow, Puck had been so sure they only said that in, like, Harry Potter movies and that one British movie they'd watched in English. But maybe he was wrong because he'd always fallen asleep five minutes into all the movies.

"I said," Puck said, shoving his hands into his pockets and raising an eyebrow, "get out."

The boy scrambled up and was out of the room in seconds.

The other guy- Puck couldn't remember his name, so he decided to call him Frodo in his head- was sitting on the other bed plucking moodily at an acoustic.

"Puck, right?" Frodo asked, and Puck actually rolled his eyes, because it was hard enough to deal with Finn when he was being mopey shit when his life sucked, and now this kid was doing it too.

"Look, Blaise-"

"Blaine," Frodo corrected.

"Whatever. Your Asian friend with the gavel sent me up here under the threat of death, because now I guess _I'm _the one who deals with all the emotional crap and for some reason Mercedes thinks _you _freaking out up here is _my _fault, and Kurt thinks you have a headache but you're playing the guitar so I _know _that isn't the issue. I don't know what you expect me to do, cuz I'm not a freaking therapist, but spill."

Frodo was staring at him like he had three heads.

Puck leaned against the bed. "So tell me why you stormed out or whatever."

"I didn't storm out," Frodo said, folding his arms. "I didn't want to intrude on your New Directions time."

"You wouldn't." Puck shrugged. "I'm not gonna pretend to get how gay guys work, but as far as the rest of us are concerned, you're like, Kurt's boyfriend or whatever. And-" he took a deep breath. "Even though none of the rest of us have fooled around outside the group, so I don't really know what to do about an outsider- I still think you're cool."

"I'm not Kurt's boyfriend," Frodo said.

Now Puck had no idea what was going on or how the hell anything worked at this school. "Why not?" He demanded. "You- dig him, right?"

Okay, so this was kind of uncomfortable. He didn't really know how to give _guy _advice to another _guy._

Frodo didn't answer.

"You're a dude, he's a dude, you both _like_ dudes, what's the deal?"

xx

Blaine appreciated Puck's efforts, he really did. The other boy was clearly uncomfortable, but trying not to show it.

"Kurt is my best friend," Blaine said. "I care too much to ruin it by trying to start a relationship with him. He means far too much to me."

Puck shrugged. "Finn's my best friend and I made out with his girl, and it didn't ruin it."

"You people in New Directions have a twisted idea of a functional relationship," Blaine snapped. "Out of all of you, Mike and Tina's is the most functional, and that _includes_ your teacher."

"Dude," Puck said, almost in astonishment.

"You may consider it normal or okay to get it on with both of the girlfriends your best friend has had, but I can assure that is neither normal nor in any way acceptable in most people's books, including mine. As strange as it may sound, Kurt is not expendable to me. I care about him far too much to let him go by screwing things up with him. I refuse to make unwanted advances on him."

Puck shrugged. "I'm not really sure what you want me to say. I'm in love with a girl who won't even let me make out with her and for some reason I'm okay with it." He slid back onto Andrew's bed until he was sitting. "I say go for it, dude. Kurt likes you. He won't kick your ass."

"He's interested in someone else," Blaine said shortly.

Puck raised an eyebrow. "I'm gonna be honest, Kurt's my boy and all, but he doesn't have a ton of friends. I think we would know if he was hot for another guy."

"He had about six texts from a guy named Noah, and they seemed to make him pretty happy," Blaine said grumpily, picking at his comforter.

Puck actually laughed, and Blaine glared at him.

"Seriously. Dude?" Puck said. "My name is Noah Puckerman. Puck's a _nickname_. Mercedes' phone died so she texted Kurt from mine."

Blaine felt incredibly stupid.

Puck was still grinning to himself. After a moment, he gestured to the door. "You're cool, man. You're one of us. So go back down to the party and get a piece of that."

Okay, _what_?

"Did I just get... your approval?" he asked uncertainly, following Puck to the door.

Puck smiled. "Kurt likes you, you like football, so you gotta be cool." He brought his fist up, and Blaine tentatively tapped his own fist against it.

"Plus, you're the only person I've met that Hummel doesn't act like a bitch to, and that's something. So you have to be pretty cool," Puck said as they started down the stairs.

Blaine laughed, and then they started talking about the Buckeyes, and before he knew it, they were back in the choir room and Kurt was looking at them curiously.

Puck messed up Blaine's perfectly gelled hair (for which Blaine chewed him out quite thoroughly in his head), and headed off to bother Finn.

Kurt glided toward him, one of his eyebrows arched. "Care to explain?"

"Not especially." Blaine shot him one of his charming smiles.

"And your headache?"

"Never existed," Blaine admitted, and Kurt's eyebrows shot up. Blaine sighed. "Look, Kurt. It was just a moment of insecurity. Seeing you with all these people- your friends. I don't belong. Here." His words were stilted.

"Puck likes you. Mike and Sam, and all of the girls." Kurt tugged on his lapel. "Blaine, I've always thought of Mercedes as my best friend."

And there it was again, the reminder that Blaine would never be first in anything in Kurt's life- romance, friendship. Anything.

"But she has some pretty fierce competition in you," Kurt said, and Blaine's stomach seemed to fly up to take the place of his heart. "You haven't noticed that I tell you... well, everything? I think it's possible to have more than one best friend, don't you?"

"You may have noticed that you're my best friend here," Blaine said. "I mean, there's Wes and David, but they have their own... thing."

"I'm going to ask you something now," Kurt said, his face serious but for the little twitch in his lips. "Are you absolutely sure that Wes and David are not gay and in love with each other?"

"Okay, I can answer the first one pretty confidently," Blaine said. "No, they are not gay. But I'm pretty sure they _are _in love with each other."

"I think..." Kurt said, in a strange tone, "that being at McKinley has screwed up my head. Either Dalton is normal and McKinley is crazy, or Dalton is crazy and McKinley is normal."

"Or we're both crazy in different ways," Blaine supplied helpfully. "I would like to point out the fact that everyone here seems to think that they're British, and everyone is engaged in some form of bromance."

Kurt laughed, sliding his arm through Blaine's. "Come on, there's only one member of New Directions you haven't met."

There was a large girl Blaine only vaguely recognized standing by the snack table, eating a handful of skittles.

"Blaine, Lauren Zises. Lauren, Blaine."

Lauren eyed him for a few hostile seconds, then held out a hand. "I'd like seven minutes in heaven with _you_," she said.

Blaine should've been startled, but this was a McKinley girl, so somehow he really wasn't. "Unfortunately, I don't play for your team," he explained.

To his surprised, she actually smiled more widely. "IRL slash? I could get with that."

He shot a look at Kurt that clearly said _"what?"_

Kurt shrugged.

Finn was coming in the doors with a cake, which clearly spelled disaster, as Finn often couldn't walk over flat surfaces without tripping and dropping whatever he was holding. Kurt hurried over quickly to help him with it.

Lauren dipped her finger into the dip bowl, then licked it clean, her eyes still locked on Blaine. "Are you getting hot with Hummel?" she asked.

Jesus, what the hell was up with these people? Blaine was absolutely determined not to blush or look away as he answered. "No. We're just friends. Two gay people can be friends without being into each other, you know."

"Oh, I know," Lauren said. "But you two can't."

And then she sauntered away, and Blaine was left to think that little sweetheart over.

The candles were lit, and the lights were flicked off, and Blaine was still halfway across the room from the rest of them.

They were all singing, gathered around Mercedes, who was swatting at all of them and blushing. Blaine joined in half-heartedly, but his eyes were locked on Kurt, who was leaning over Mercedes' left-shoulder and singing right into her ear. The candle-light illuminated his face softly, throwing his features into sharp contrasting shadows.

The song ended, and Kurt pressed a kiss to Mercedes' cheek, and Blaine selfishly wondered why he'd never had the same attentions paid to him. After all, he was Kurt's best friend too, wasn't he?

And oh god, that was so stupid, he realized just as Kurt turned to look at him. Mercedes might be Kurt's shopping buddy and the one who got the kisses on the cheek, but Blaine was the one who Kurt called when he was on the verge of an emotional breakdown involving Karofsky, and Blaine was the one who Kurt traded sarcastic quips with, and Blaine was the one who Kurt studied with, and the one he read Vogue with, and the first person he called when he had good news.

So he and Mercedes were on even footing. They were both friend-zoned.

Kurt smiled softly at him as Mercedes blew out the candles, and Blaine smiled back, holding Kurt's gaze as the room went dark.

Kurt had never shown any sign of being interested in him at all. He considered Blaine as his best friend, and that was a start, but until he showed any real romantic interest, Blaine couldn't bring himself to break the best thing that had ever happened to him.

**A/N: I think the meet the family is the next chapter, and it may take a little bit to write. I'm sorry about that, but I'm basing Jane off a girl I know and I have to carefully observe her bitchy characteristics.**


	11. Traveling

**A/N:**

**upside: I updated fast!**

**downside: no Jane in this chapter.**

**Soooooo spoiler: **

**BIOTA- chill the fuck out, guys. Blainchel's kind of hilarious in a cracky way.**

**And if it's in the promo, it ain't that important.**

**And Blaine's gay. **

**Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.**

**Other than that, did anyone see DCriss' Out photos? (loljk everyone saw them, who am I kidding?) like UNFFFF. That boy is so sexy I don't even understand anymore. How does Chris not... die when he's around him?**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee.**

Blaine walked into yet another table corner and swore violently under his breath.

"Such language," Kurt said, coming up behind him.

"Don't repeat those words," Blaine said. "They're bad."

Kurt laughed, sitting down at the table Blaine had just bumped into, and handing him his tea. "Here. Sit down before you hurt yourself more."

Blaine took the tea. "I don't understand why you always carry my tea for me," he complained as he sat down.

"Because knowing you, you would run into a few tables on your way over here and consequently drop the tea on your feet, burn your toes, and then try to pretend you weren't in pain for the rest of the night and continue to deny any possible burns until you had some sort of infection, and even then you would probably try to heal or cure it yourself," Kurt said dryly, sliding a plate of biscotti over to Blaine.

Blaine stared at him, wide-eyed. "You know me too well," he said.

"I'm your best friend," Kurt reminded him. "I also happen to know that you have a tea problem." He tipped his head to the mug sitting innocently in front of Blaine.

"I do not have a tea problem," Blaine protested, clutching the cup protectively between his hands. "I can quit any time I want to."

"You're scaring me," Kurt said dryly.

Blaine laughed, picking up a piece of biscotti. "I promise I don't have an addiction."

"He has a problem," David contradicted, dropping into the seat at the table beside theirs.

Blaine's head dropped to the table. "Stop _following_ us," he said, the uneven wood muffling his words.

"We can't help it," Wes said, sliding two coffee cups in a carton onto their table. "You two are entertaining. It's like watching reality TV, but far more intelligent and with more sexual repression." He was cradling a tub of popcorn in his arms. "Please, continue as if we're not here."

"I seriously want to _punch _both of you," Kurt said, looking between the two.

"Sometimes they get away from their sitter," Blaine said, his forehead still firmly attached to the table.

"Or a documentary," David continued, as if neither Kurt nor Blaine had said anything. "On the mating rituals or lack thereof of gay teenagers."

Blaine lifted his head, pointing to the door. "Out."

"So hurtful," Wes said, but they picked up their cups and shuffled to the door.

"They should not be able to kick us out of a coffee shop so easily," said David, shame coloring his voice. "It's public domain."

"Kurt is frightening when you interrupt his alone time with coffee and Blaine is frightening when you interrupt his alone time with Kurt," Wes pointed out.

"And you're frightening when I interrupt your alone time with your gavel. Kidding, kidding," David added hastily when Wes raised his fist in warning.

"What I'm saying is, we're not pansies for leaving."

David peered through the window of the coffee shop. "God, they're sickening."

"What are they doing now?" Wes asked, crouching down and trying to look over the bottom of the windowsill, to avoid being noticed by the two lovebirds. The frosted glass was nearly impossible to see through.

"Staring wistfully at each other whenever the other one isn't looking," David said in disgust.

Wes let himself slump against the brick wall, sighing loudly. "Okay, at first I was content to let this go on, because it seemed as if Blaine had no idea how he felt about Kurt and Kurt just loved Blaine because he was the only openly gay guy he knew."

"Agreed," said David. "But now it seems like Blaine has finally come to term with his feelings, and it's clear this isn't just hero-worship for Kurt."

"I'm not sure how much longer I can take this," Wes groaned.

"We have to think this through," David said, because he was nothing if not logical. "How would it influence their relationship if we interfered? Would they, in the long run, be happier for it, or more depressed? Would it effect it positively or negatively? Do they have legitimate reasons for _not _being together besides the ever-present fear of rejection?"

"I know that Blaine doesn't think Kurt is ready for a relationship yet," Wes said. "He's gotten over his whole mentor attitude, thank god, so they're on even footing now. But he still thinks that what Kurt needs is a friend."

"And I know Blaine told Kurt about Jane," David added. "Which means Kurt is less likely to start a relationship with him because whether Blaine will admit it or not, his family is very important to him, and the fact that his twin sister won't accept him is devastating to him. Kurt understands that, maybe even better than Blaine himself does, and is therefore less likely to pursue a relationship."

"Add that to the fact that neither of them have had a boyfriend before, and that they're best friends and are afraid of messing that up, and you have two boys who are made for each other but probably won't admit that until they both have pacemakers and artificial limbs, if they admit it at all," Wes said, sounding defeated.

"Damn though, we are so perceptive," David said proudly.

"Should we interfere?" Wes asked, taking a sip of his cooling coffee and straightening his scarf with his free hand.

"No," David decided, after a moment. "Kurt's meeting Blaine's family this weekend, that's an important step. Let's see how that goes."

"Okay. Emotional discussion quota filled for the day," Wes said, shuddering. "Let's go kill some aliens."

"Excellent idea, Wester," David said pompously, flinging one end of his Dalton regulation scarf over his shoulder.

xxxxx

"Seriously, I'm so sorry about them," Blaine said, as soon as the two boys were out the door.

"You apologize for your friends an inordinate amount," Kurt said thoughtfully, stirring his coffee. "It's almost comical that you think you actually need to."

Blaine lifted his eyes to Kurt's. "What do you mean?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm used to Wes and David by now," he said fondly. "As annoyingly boyish and yet simultaneously pretentious as they can sometimes be, they're nice guys. And they clearly love you to death."

"That doesn't change the fact that, on occasion, I honestly consider calling a psych ward on both of them," Blaine said. "And I feel the need to apologize about them."

"Even if I did find them insufferable, do you really think that would stop me from being friends with you?" Kurt asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Blaine's mouth twitched. "No," he admitted.

"So stop apologizing for your friends' mental deficiencies," Kurt said, sliding a hand over Blaine's. "Insanity can't be helped. Everyone always says you pick your friends, but you really don't, do you?"

A part of Blaine's mind flashed to that day he'd walked into the sophomore commons, his eyes glued to the seven or so boys gathered in front of the flatscreen, his book of football plays and rules clutched in his hand like a lifeline.

He'd slipped into an empty seat next to a sort of good looking Asian guy, and breathed a sigh of relief when nobody called him out as not belonging, even if he was a freshman. Even after a month at this school, he still tensed up when a jock walked by.

"Jesus, Buckeyes suck this year," he said.

It was the line he'd been practicing for days now, often enough that it had started to sound funny in his mouth.

The black guy sitting on the Asian boy's other side snorted. "Tell me about it. Their quarterback-" he turned to talk directly to Blaine, then froze.

Blaine closed his eyes. Here came the humiliation or reprimand or paddling or whatever it was they did here.

When nothing happened, Blaine cracked one eyelid open.

The boy was holding out his hand to shake.

"I'm David," he said expectantly, flashing a bright smile.

Blaine smiled hesitantly, taking the hand. "Blaine."

"Wes," the Asian boy said, pointing to himself. "You're new, right? I've never seen you around before."

"I'm a freshman," Blaine confirmed.

"Sophomores," David laughed, "which means _you're_ our new pet."

He hadn't been able to wipe the grin off his face for the rest of the game.

Kurt's hand was warm and soft on his, and his smile was the same, bringing Blaine back down to earth.

"No," Blaine agreed, "your friends pick you."

And the same could be said for his friendship with Kurt. Out of all of the boys on the Dalton staircase that day, he'd picked Blaine to call out to.

Blaine didn't exactly believe in fate. But it was hard not to, considering so many things depended on that one coincidental meeting. If Blaine hadn't been held up conversing with his English teacher... if he'd let another boy turn around to face Kurt because he was already running so late...

"Thinking hard?" Kurt's soft voice asked, bringing Blaine once again out of a reverie.

"About you, actually," Blaine said, not realizing how that would sound until it was already out of his mouth.

He enjoyed the way Kurt was blushing, though.

"I mean, what are the chances?" Blaine asked, his fingers curling around Kurt's hand. "You could have stopped anyone on that staircase, and you didn't. You stopped me."

Kurt smiled, showing the slightest glimpse of teeth. "I have specific requirements for occasions such as that."

Half of Blaine's mouth tilted up. "Such as?"

"Such as, it must be someone who catches my eye. And you were holding a pocket watch and had an absurd amount of product in your hair."

"Wow," Blaine said, sarcastically. "Good to know I had such a wonderful first impression."

"First impressions are important," Kurt said. "You left one of the best I've ever experienced. Although, to be honest, most of my first impressions involve slushie facials and dumpster dives."

Blaine fought against the ridiculous smile he could feel trying to spread across his face. "Really?"

"You grabbed my hand and ran with me through empty hallways, then serenaded me, then bought me coffee and told me to have courage," Kurt said, arching an eyebrow. "That doesn't happen every day to me, believe it or not."

"Really? It's a regular occurrence at Dalton," Blaine teased.

"I'm actually really worried about meeting your family," Kurt confessed.

Up until now, Blaine could have been fine. Sure, he was freaking out in his head about Kurt meeting his parents (especially because of the knowing looks they'd both cast him), and meeting Jane, because he was cringing at the thought of all the offhand, indirect comments Jane could make about Kurt. But he'd been okay, until Kurt had expressed his own anxiety about the situation.

He forced his face into a smile. "Don't be anxious. They'll love you."

"You keep saying that, but it doesn't stop me from wanting to make a good first impression, particularly since one-fifth of your family will hate me anyway, on principle."

Blaine slid his fingers through Kurt's, locking their hands together. "Don't think about it like that. Layne already adores you."

"Layne doesn't _know_ me," Kurt protested.

"I've told her a lot about you," Blaine admitted, "and she's seen your school picture."

"Oh, god," Kurt groaned.

Blaine laughed. "Kurt, she asked who the angel was."

"She did not," Kurt replied, the tips of his ears turning bright red. "You're making that up."

Blaine held up his free hand. "On my life."

"That's lovely of her," Kurt said softly, caressing his coffee cup.

"I'm very excited for you to meet her," Blaine replied, rubbing a thumb over Kurt's hand. "You two are two of the most important people in my life. It's- important to me that you meet."

Kurt's breath caught in his throat as Blaine's eyes held his, the other boy's the color of dark honey that should have been strange and unsettling, but was instead somehow comforting and warm. There was green in there too, he realized, which was something he'd never noticed before. Little flecks of a dark emerald color that caught the light filtering dimly from the lamps hanging above them and made his eyes shine.

His hand was shaking, he realized, and he knew that Blaine could feel it. He felt mildly embarrassed.

"Too much caffeine, I think," Blaine said with a small laugh, and not for the first time, Kurt thanked the teapot on the dark side of the moon that Blaine was completely clueless.

"Not enough caffeine," Kurt countered with a grin. "Unlike you, I'm fully capable of admitting that I have an addiction. I need coffee to be personable."

Blaine raised his cup and tilted his head in agreement. "I have evidence that backs that up."

"I _will _make you burn that videotape," Kurt threatened.

"Not a chance," Blaine said, draining the last dregs of his tea. "You'd have to find it first."

Kurt drank the last of his coffee and stood up, reaching out to adjust Blaine's haphazardly draped scarf. "You give off this aura of being a generous, kind, and respectful young man. But it's deceiving, because you're pure evil."

"Well, that isn't very nice," Blaine said, pretending to pout.

Laughing, Kurt tugged Blaine from his seat.

"You might want to pack some more formal clothes, and our plane leaves at eight tonight," Blaine informed him, almost as an after-thought.

"We're- flying?" Kurt asked, in a slightly squeaky voice.

Blaine covered his mouth. "Oh, god, I didn't tell you, did I? I'm sorry-"

"No, it's fine, it's just-" Kurt paused. "Where do you _live_?"

Blaine smiled sheepishly. "Normally, only about two hours away by car. But my parents wanted to move Jane somewhere warmer for the winter- less ice, you know, less chance of her slipping and whatnot. They talked to your dad on the phone about it- I guess that's why I thought you knew."

Kurt blinked. "You have two houses."

"Actually, I've got four," Blaine said, a little reluctantly. "But one's only a lake house."

"Oh," said Kurt, a little faintly. "All right." He tugged on Blaine's hand. "Then hurry up, because I have to go meet Jeff."

Blaine wrinkled his forehead as they left the coffee shop, swinging their hands between them. "Why?"

"Need to finish my English essay now, if I'm going to be with you all weekend," Kurt said. "Because I know I won't finish it with you around."

And a month or two ago, he might've panicked, that he'd said that out loud, but he'd come to realize that although Blaine was many wonderful things, he was not observant. He wouldn't notice. And in a way, it was liberating, being able to speak little declarations of his love like that right to the object of his affections, even if said object didn't notice.

"A capital idea," Blaine said, in that pompous way he sometimes had.

Sometimes, Kurt wondered if Blaine realized that it wasn't normal, the way the two of them sometimes acted. Clasping hands at every opportunity, serenading each other, cuddling up against each other. He and Mercedes did it, to be sure, but that was because everyone knew Kurt was gay and not interested in Mercedes. You didn't see a straight guy and girl cuddled up against each other if they weren't dating. And by the same rules, he and Blaine shouldn't either, seeing as they were both attracted to guys.

But here they were, holding hands, hugging all the time, singing to each other, and going on what anyone else would consider "dates" at any opportunity.

He was pretty sure the entire school thought they were dating. Hell, besides the whole "kissing" thing, they pretty much were. And Blaine didn't even realize it.

They separated at Kurt's door, Blaine offering him a quick squeeze of the hand.

Jeff was already waiting there, his hands in his pockets.

"Slow moving relationship," he noted, as soon as Blaine was gone. "Not even a kiss on the cheek?"

"We're not dating," Kurt said, and Jeff looked shocked.

Kurt suppressed a sigh. Yet more evidence that he and Blaine were in a relationship, and Blaine didn't even know it.

xxxxx

Wes had just shoved a syringe into yet another virus-ridden "Little Sister" in Bioshock when Blaine flung the door open.

"Hey, buddy, how was your date with Kurt?" David asked casually, beating the pulp out of someone with a wrench.

"Not a date," Blaine corrected automatically, "and I'm sort of... _freaking out._ I'm taking him to meet my family _tomorrow_. What do I _do?_"

"Breathing is a good first step," Wes advised, sending a swarm of bees at an attacker.

"Thank you for that stunning piece of advice." Blaine's voice was fairly dripping with contempt. "I don't know how I could have survived up until now without it."

"Well, yeah." David said, pressing 'x' several times. "I mean, you can't really survive without breathing."

"Thank you, David," Blaine said, in an icy voice that was so reminiscent of Kurt's usual contemptuous tone that Wes actually paused the game and turned to look at his friend.

"You're freaking out about this, aren't you?"

Blaine shot him a look that clearly said _"no shit"_.

"Blaine, come on. It's Kurt we're talking about here. He's not going to just stop being your friend because your sister's a psycho bitch."

"David," Blaine snapped.

"You know what he meant," Wes said soothingly. "Kurt will not think any less of you than he does right now."

"And right now he thinks the sun and moon of you," David said, gagging a little.

"I _can't_ let Jane hurt him," Blaine said quietly. "I can't let her do that, but I don't know how to stop her."

"Kurt's a lot stronger than you think he is," David said. "I think we've all seen evidence of that."

Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply.

"Where is he, anyway?" Wes asked curiously.

"He's with Jeff, finishing his English essay so he doesn't have to when he's with me this weekend," Blaine answered. "He was actually panicking a little, which made me panic."

"Of course he would panic," David said, rolling his eyes at Wes. How thick could Blaine be? "He's meeting your family."

"You two didn't freak out," Blaine said, his eyes darting between the two of them.

"You really are clueless, aren't you?" David asked, the wonder evident in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked.

Clearly, he had not even the slightest inkling as to how Kurt felt about him. And as much as they wanted to tell him, they knew it probably wasn't the best moment to, at this time and place in their relationship.

"We didn't freak out because there were two of us to judge, and we could always have each other's backs," David covered quickly.

"Well, it made Jane think you two were gay too, and that the only friends I can make are gay ones," Blaine said, sounding a little peeved.

"And she's never going to believe Kurt's straight, so that option is out," Wes said, sympathetically.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked defensively.

David rolled his eyes. "Blaine, come on, you know we like Kurt. I'm just saying he doesn't try to hide his sexuality. Don't jump down my throat just because I'm stating a fact. Nobody would believe that Kurt was straight."

"Unless he started wearing flannel and listening to Mellencamp," Wes chuckled.

xxxxx

Kurt sighed in frustration, running his hands through his once-immaculate hair, now tousled into a frenzy. He hadn't thought of this before he'd said goodbye to both Blaine and Jeff, and now he was once again on the verge of a breakdown.

What the hell was he supposed to _pack_?

His weekend clothes were obviously a no-go. He was not about to wear skintight jeans and bondage shirts to meet Blaine's parents. God, he wished he'd brought more clothing with him to Dalton. He thought longingly back to his closet at home, full of cardigans and neckties and elegant suits- classy and safe.

"Need some help?"

Kurt whirled to see Blaine leaning against the doorframe, looking impossibly handsome and charming.

"I have no idea what to _wear_," Kurt told him desperately, throwing a jacket into the veto pile on the end of his bed.

"That's a first," Blaine teased.

"There is nothing family-appropriate in here," Kurt bemoaned. "Not enough to make a full outfit, anyway."

"You're not thinking outside the box," Blaine said disapprovingly. "I'm ashamed of you." He picked up a sweater, several of Kurt's Dalton oxfords, and three pairs of dress pants. "Do you have any bowties?"

"Is that a question?" Kurt asked disdainfully, and Blaine laughed.

"Come with me."

Kurt followed Blaine to his room, where Blaine immediately got to work, throwing open his closet and tossing various articles of clothing to him. Ties, sweaters, vests.

"I have clothes at home," Blaine said, in response to Kurt's unspoken query. "I'll be fine. But you- you need to pack." He took half of the clothes from Kurt's arms. "Come on, let's get your suitcase packed. We need to leave by seven in order to make our plane on time."

Blaine, as it turned out, was absurdly good at packing. He made clothing take up almost no space at all, rolling the various articles into tiny tubes of fabric and tucking them in side-by-side.

Wes and David popped in just as Blaine was finishing packing Kurt's case, just to say goodbye.

"Bring us back a seashell," David said, and Kurt was reminded that he'd never asked Blaine exactly where they were going. He opened his mouth to remedy that fact, but was interrupted by Wes.

"Give Jane the silent treatment for us."

Blaine frowned. "Kurt and I are going to be late." He lifted Kurt's suitcase off the bed.

The drive to the airport was short, silent, but comfortable. Blaine's hand slipped into Kurt's immediately against the gearshift.

And there it was again- Blaine's apparent lack of knowledge in the area of friend etiquette verses relationship etiquette.

They boarded the plane, and for the first time in- well, ever- Kurt wasn't situated next to some enormously overweight and sweaty male, nor was he next to a grandmotherly type who insisted on showing him picture after picture of her cats or grandchildren. Nor was he seated in front of an obnoxious five-year-old child who insisted on kicking his seat at every opportunity.

That may have been because he was in first class for the first time, rather thancoach. The seats were larger and more comfortable, there were only two seats to a row, there were televisions for each pair of seats.

Best of all, he had Blaine sitting next to him, wearing a hugely bright smile and gripping his hand tightly, and looking almost heart-achingly beautiful. His excitement actually seemed to radiate through him.

"You're happy to be going home," Kurt noted.

"I'm excited to see Layne," Blaine answered, loosening his grip on Kurt's hand when he realized he was cutting off circulation to Kurt's fingers. "And baby Blaine."

"You're lucky to have a sister like her," Kurt said.

"You're lucky to have a step-brother like Finn," Blaine countered. "I always wanted a brother when I was little."

Kurt shook his head, grinning. "Finn tries most of the time, but sometimes he's just a douchebag."

At that moment, a stewardess stopped by their seats. "Can I get you gentlemen anything?" she asked with a smile. "Mr. Anderson?"

Kurt started a little.

"A blanket, and two pillows, please?" Blaine requested, and the stewardess offered them another smile and her assurances that she would be right back before she hurried off.

"It's a four and a half hour flight," Blaine said, in response to Kurt's eyebrow-raise. "Might as well be comfortable."

"Where are we going to, exactly?" Kurt asked. He hadn't gotten an answer when they'd first arrived at the airport and had been immediately escorted onto the plane with a "right this way, Master Anderson and guest."

"The Gulf of Mexico," Blaine said, smiling uncertainly at Kurt. "Florida keys, more specifically. It's so warm there- I think you'll like it. It'll be a welcome break from the snow and the cold, and we have almost four full days to spend there."

"That actually sounds wonderful," Kurt said, a slow smile spreading over his face. He laced his fingers through Blaine's. "Perfect, actually."

The stewardess returned, two pillows tucked under one arm and a blanket folded over the other. She handed them off to Blaine. "Let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Anderson. Mr. Hummel," she said, and Blaine nodded at her.

"Who _are_ you?" Kurt asked after a moment.

Blaine laughed, his cheeks slightly pink.

"No, seriously," Kurt said. "Are you a mobster?"

"If I were, we would be on a private jet right now, like the one Wes' dad has," Blaine said. "Not sharing a plane with about sixty other people."

Kurt gaped a little bit.

Blaine responded by tucking the blanket tightly around both of them, and sliding a pillow behind Kurt's head.

The hum of the plane's engine was comforting, as was the warmth of Blaine's body pressed up against him, and Kurt could feel his eyelids drooping as he slumped into Blaine more and more. His neck was stretched at an awkward angle, but he didn't want to move his head from its position on Blaine's shoulder-

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, disentangling his fingers from Kurt's.

Kurt lifted his head blearily.

Blaine slid an arm behind Kurt's neck and shoulders, tugging him more fully against him in a half-embrace. Kurt let his head fall back to Blaine's chest, his eyelids already closing again.

"Better?" Blaine murmured.

"Much," Kurt mumbled back, sleepily, curling one arm around Blaine's waist and nuzzling his nose into the other boy's chest. He smelled spicy and somehow vaguely fruity, like pineapples, and his flannel shirt (which was a sin against nature and fashion) was wonderfully soft.

Blaine's fingers threaded through his hair, and Kurt was too sleepy and it felt too nice for him to admonish Blaine for messing it up. He felt Blaine's cheek rest against his head, and snuggled himself even closer to his friend as he drifted off to sleep.

**A/N: Gah, I know I promised Jane. But this... wrote itself, for some reason.**

**NEXT CHAPTER, I PROMISE.**

**And this is for real this time cuz I just finished page two and you've already seen Jane once so there. **


	12. Change

**A/N: this is ridiculous. Tumblr is actually starting to make me feel nervous about BIOTA, and I don't like that. At all. I know all the reasons why I shouldn't be, but...**

**Here's the worst part. I'm going to be in Ithaca on Tuesday, visiting a friend of mine, poking around. I'm not going to be around for the episode. I'm going to record it, of course, and watch it Wednesday morning before my first class, but I have three friends who I normally text when I'm watching the episode and I've told them each at least three times that they're expressly forbidden to text me ANYTHING about what happens. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.**

**Also, a thought- I want a Blaine voiceover so badly for BIOTA. Can this PLEASE happen? My vision is this: Blaine wakes up, the camera is in a POV shot, sort of crooked, a little blurry. He focuses on a bra hanging from a fan, maybe a couple of people from New Directions draped randomly across furniture in uncomfortable passing-out positions. Then the voice-over begins, and somehow leads to him saying something like "here's how it all started..." and then it goes back to the beginning.**

**I want it to happen so badly, okay? I just want a Blaine voiceover. I don't care in what context.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Glee, although I'm working on it.**

"Mr. Anderson?"

The whisper came faintly, but Blaine had heard it enough times in his life to know that it meant it was time for him to wake up. He blinked blearily, lifting his head from his pillow.

Or, no. Not a pillow, though it was soft enough to be one. He blinked stupidly for a few seconds at the boy draped across him, then looked back to the Stewardess.

"We're about to land, if you'd care to wake your boyfriend, sir," she said, and was gone before Blaine could think to correct her (1).

Kurt was adorable when he slept. He scrunched up his nose and eyes, and when Blaine tried to gently shake him awake, he made a light snuffling sound and pushed his nose into Blaine's collarbone.

"Kurt, really, we have to get up," he murmured, and Kurt made a noise of dissent and attempted to burrow more deeply into Blaine's shirt. He looked impossibly like a very cute, sleepy mouse. And it was starting to disturb Blaine, the number of animals he compared Kurt to.

"Don't wanna," Kurt mumbled sleepily.

"Up you go," Blaine insisted, wrapping an arm around Kurt to help him from his seat. Maybe _he_ was used to four hours of sleep a night (usually less), but he knew for a fact that Kurt never got any less than nine, which is why he had such flawless skin. At the moment, he was walking dead.

Several attendants offered him help as he assisted Kurt off the plane, but he waved them away, enjoying the feeling of taking care of the younger boy, who was currently mumbling nonsensical words mixed in with the occasional music-related vocabulary.

He slid Kurt into the back of the car that was waiting for them at the airport.

"M' bags," Kurt murmured, and Blaine petted his hair.

"They're being delivered to the house first thing in the morning," he whispered soothingly.

"Kay," Kurt sighed, and promptly dropped his head onto Blaine's lap. Blaine froze. Kurt made a small noise, pressing his face into Blaine's thigh. "Blaine, 'm really tired."

"Home soon," Blaine said gently, hesitantly stroking a hand against Kurt's face. "We have a lot of guest rooms you can-"

"Wan' share with you," Kurt mumbled. "You can't sleep without me."

For the second time, Blaine froze. "How do you know about that?" he breathed.

"Magic." Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist and nuzzled into Blaine's stomach.

And okay, that was doing funny things to Blaine's spine and maybe other parts of his body too and that was just... unfair.

"You need me to sleep," Kurt repeated, opening his eyes a little and squinting at him. "So 'm sharing with you."

Apparently, it was less of an offer and more of a demand, as Kurt followed him up the stairs in the dark house and into his room, making as little noise as possible so as not to wake Blaine's sleeping family. Kurt climbed into his large, king-sized bed, making contented noises that shouldn't have done the things that they were doing to Blaine's stomach.

Swallowing hard, Blaine climbed into bed after changing into his pajamas. He was content to let Kurt have his personal space- he was almost absolutely sure that just being in the same bed as Kurt would be enough to let him sleep- but sleepy Kurt was having none of that. He cuddled right up to Blaine, tucking his head under his chin and tickling him with his feather-soft hair.

"Now you c'n go t' sleep," Kurt mumbled, his voice trailing off towards the end. "Cuz I'm here."

And god, Blaine had never loved anyone more than he did at that moment, as he held Kurt tightly and slipped off into a dreamless sleep.

He woke with a start to sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows on one wall of his room, and the feeling of someone's eyes on him. His first thought was Kurt, seeing as the boy was still wrapped firmly in his arms. When he tilted his head downward to look at him, however, he was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

His next instinct was to look to the door.

Jane stood there, her frail arms folded across her chest, her dark eyes fixated on the two of them cuddled together in Blaine's bed.

Sometimes, when he'd been away from his family for a long time, he'd forget just how tiny his twin sister was. She barely cleared four feet in height, making him of all people feel like a giant.

Wes and David never understood how, after all that had happened and all the two had been through, Blaine could still feel protective when he looked at his sister.

He knew what she saw when she looked at the two of them curled up in Blaine's bed. It was apparent in how her eyes settled on Kurt's sleeping face, before her lip curled in disgust.

Without a word, Jane turned slowly and walked away.

The air bubble that had been rising in Blaine's chest since the moment he'd woken to Kurt cuddled in his arms slowly began to sink, carrying his good mood along with it.

Kurt was starting to wake up, yawning and blinking and making little noises that were far too adorable to be allowed.

"I didn't do my skincare routine last night," Kurt said suddenly, with startling coherency, and leapt out of bed with a horrified look on his face.

Blaine pointed him to the bathroom, and Kurt grabbed his carry-on and rushed in, slamming the door behind him.

There was a cough in the doorway.

He whirled, expecting (and maybe almost hoping) to see Jane.

Instead, his mother was standing there, her arms folded. "Good morning."

"Mom," he breathed, and lunged forward, nearly knocking her over in a bone-crushing hug.

She laughed, patting his hair fondly. "We've missed you. What time did you get in?"

"About one thirty this morning," Blaine said. "I assumed you didn't want to be woken, and Kurt was tired and grumpy in any case, so I just put him to bed."

"Your bed," his mother noted.

He tried to maintain a carefully neutral facial expression.

"I trust you, and I know all you've said about Kurt and what he's been through and what he's like, so I'm not mad," his mother said. "And Wes has told me all about how he's the supposed cure for your insomnia."

"I'm going to kill him," Blaine said.

"Don't give me any reason not to trust the two of you," she said, seriously.

He could _not_ believe that he was having this conversation with his _mother_, of all people. The expression on his face must have been priceless, because she laughed, patting his shoulder. "Get showered, get dressed, get ready for the day. Then come down to lunch because Layne will be here in an hour."

He felt his grin split his face at the thought of seeing his older sister and meeting his nephew for the first time.

His mom offered him one final smile then turned to go. "We all absolutely cannot wait to meet Kurt," she said, over her shoulder. "I'm sure he's a doll."

Blaine actually may have giggled.

xxxxx

Kurt couldn't remember much of _anything_ from the plane ride. He knew he'd fallen asleep almost immediately after it had left the ground (for some reason, planes seemed to have that effect on him). He only had a very vague recollection of the car ride back to Blaine's house, when he may or may not have said some slightly embarrassing things. It would certainly explain his waking up in Blaine's bed this morning, draped all over the other boy.

It took him at least six or seven minutes of staring at the shower faucets before he could even figure out how the damn thing turned on, especially since there were more than two knobs, and therefore more than he was used to dealing with. He felt his anxiety creeping back up on him.

The comfort of a warm shower, however, was universal. He let his eyelids slip closed as the water poured over him, relaxing his tensed shoulders.

He stayed in a few minutes longer than normal, even after he'd finished his usual hair-and-skincare routine, but eventually turned the knobs off with a sigh, reminding himself that he did _not_ want to look like a prune when he met Blaine's parents.

He'd finished toweling himself off and had stepped out of the small shower room into the larger sink area when a knock sounded on the door.

"Hey, I don't want to rush you," Blaine's voice said, "but we're a little pressed for time, so I was wondering if I could use the shower."

"Oh." Kurt wrapped the towel more securely around his waist and moved to open the door. "Go ahead."

He tried very hard not to flush when Blaine politely averted his eyes as he stepped into the room.

"Thanks," Blaine whispered, and there was the slightest brush of skin-on-skin as Blaine moved past him, and his arm brushed Kurt's chest.

He waited until he heard the click of the bathroom door closing before leaning his forehead against the mirror and breathing deeply.

The shower turned on.

Now _that _was something he hadn't thought about. The fact that Blaine was probably taking off his clothes right now, leaving them puddled on the floor, and he was probably getting into the shower right now, and the water was caressing him in the most intimate of ways, and his hands would be running all over his chest and arms, lathering soap into his skin and shampoo into his hair, and-

It took _all _of Kurt's willpower to focus on the task at hand, namely the moisturizing routine. He centered his thoughts on the fact that he would, in around an hour, be meeting Blaine's family and he needed to look as spectacular as was physically possible. And that meant intensive moisturizing after carefully shaving, and using after-shave and just a dab of cologne behind his ears, and a pore-cleanser, and a coating of more moisturizer with spf45, because he had skin that was both dry _and_ easily burned.

Eventually, the familiarity of the routine caught up with him, and he was so deeply involved in the motions of getting ready that he didn't even hear the shower stop or the door open, or Blaine standing next to him until he spoke.

"What does that do?"

Kurt started violently, the bottle slipping out of his hands and falling into the sink with a clatter. If he'd been actually looking in the mirror, he might have noticed Blaine, but he'd been too busy digging through his bag to look up.

"I'm sorry," Blaine apologized immediately, wincing. "I thought you knew I was there." He picked up the bottle.

"It's to make sure I don't break out," Kurt said, taking it from him. "It's to counteract the sunblock's greasy film."

Blaine looked impressed. "I usually just use soap and a little moisturizer."

"Not all of us are blessed with perfect skin," Kurt said, dabbing some of the product on his nose. "Some of us need to use about twelve different products to get our skin looking as flawless as yours does on a regular basis."

"I think your skin is beautiful," Blaine said flippantly, rubbing at one side of his head with a towel. He whipped it at Kurt teasingly. "Not all of us are lucky enough to look like we're made of porcelain."

A tingle dropped down his back that he tried to ignore. "Get out of here."

"Not a chance." Blaine pulled open a drawer. "You have to meet my family in half an hour and right now you look about ten times better than I do. I have some catching up to do."

"Good luck," Kurt said, capping his bottle of lotion. A thought occurred to him. "Did they deliver the suitcases to the house yet?"

Blaine tugged an undershirt over his head, and for the first time, Kurt noticed he was only wearing boxers. His stomach flip-flopped. It was both startling intimate and not at the same time. He'd seen guys before in much less- you couldn't be on the football team and _not_- but it had never made him feel quite like... _this_. So startling and randomly hot.

"I'll check," Blaine said, reaching for a bottle of hair gel. "Just hold on a second, I have to do this before my hair dries."

"No," Kurt said, snatching the gel away.

"Kurt, I am going to look like Frodo, and I'm not even kidding," Blaine warned.

"Size of a dime, that's all you need," Kurt insisted, holding the bottle over his head. He knew it was unfair and probably a little cruel, but at the moment he was milking the two inches he had on Blaine for all they were worth.

"Kurt-" Blaine said, in a slightly whiny way.

"Let me?" Kurt asked. He hurried on at Blaine's hesitation. "Come on, Blaine, I clearly know what I'm doing. Look at my hair."

"Okay." Blaine surrendered, and released Kurt's wrist. "Style away."

Kurt squeezed a tinytiny amount of hair gel onto his fingers, then gestured for Blaine to come closer as he rubbed his hands together.

"This will keep your hair in control, but still natural-looking," he assured him, running his fingers into Blaine's hair. It was surprisingly soft, and Kurt felt himself spending an unnecessarily long time stroking over the curls, even after he'd already spread all the product in.

"Now." He spun Blaine to face the mirror. "How's that?"

"Much, much better," Blaine said in surprise. "You're magic."

"I've been told," Kurt said smugly.

"I'll go look for our suitcases," Blaine said.

When he was gone, Kurt returned to Blaine's bedroom and began to dig through his carry-on, searching for the extra pair of boxers he'd been absolutely sure he'd packed.

He found them crammed into the tiny zipper side pocket, and pulled them on before Blaine returned. He draped the towel over the towel rack next to the bathroom door, then lay back down on the bed, taking time to examine the room.

It was blue, which for some reason seemed to fit Blaine. Classy, elegant- the covers and sheets were a deep, shimmery royal blue material with some sort of delicate vine pattern branching out across. The walls were a lighter blue, and the carpet was gray and spotless. There were framed posters of musicals on the wall- Sweeney Todd, My Fair Lady, the Sound of Music, Repo, Mary Poppins- and one of the Ohio State Buckeyes. Other than that, the room was rather impersonal. No framed photos, no random items scattered around the room that might give a hint as to who lived here.

It was almost depressing, in a way. The bookshelf was full of books that had never been touched. All were leather-bound and looked expensive. The flat screen near the window seat looked so new it was almost sparkling.

Blaine nudged the door open with his shoulder. "Got the suitcases," he said unnecessarily.

Kurt rolled his eyes a little, but helped Blaine heft them onto the bed.

Blaine left Kurt to it as Kurt began muttering to himself, trying to piece together an appropriate outfit for the occasion.

He finally settled on a dark blue cardigan of Blaine's with very thin silver pinstripes, a white oxford, black dress pants, and his clock bowtie.

Blaine made a disgruntled noise when he saw him. "You always make everything work. That shouldn't go together but it does."

"It's a gift," Kurt said, appraising Blaine's more simple dark-wash jeans, maroon blazer, and black tie.

"You ready to meet my family?" Blaine asked.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Kurt answered seriously.

"Courage," Blaine said, only half-joking.

He reached for Blaine's hand almost out of habit, but stopped himself before they made any contact. He wasn't going to give Jane anything.

He followed Blaine down the stairs until they reached a set of double doors, just off the foyer. Blaine's hand rested lightly on the small of Kurt's back, a little reassurance as he opened one of the doors.

The first thing that he noticed was that they all looked very much like Blaine, and that there were only three- evidently, Layne was not there yet.

His eyes flew immediately to the tiny girl seated on a cushion in the corner of the room. She was eying him with a gaze that was somehow icily cold, despite the warm brown shade of her eyes. Her hair was wildly curly and dark, tumbling in a mass of ringlets down her back, and her skin was even paler than Kurt's. Her features were tiny, pointed, elfin.

She was disturbingly beautiful. Blaine hadn't mentioned that, the fact that his sister looked like something out of a fairytale.

"Kurt," Blaine's mother said, and Kurt wrenched his eyes from Jane to look at Mrs. Anderson. She, too, was beautiful, and Kurt was beginning to see where Blaine's looks came from. Her hair was lighter than her children's- closer to Kurt's shade than Blaine's- and her eyes were Quinn-green. She stood up, and Kurt had to suppress a little giggle. She was tiny, too.

"Mrs. Anderson," Kurt said, politely. "You have a lovely home."

She laughed. "Wendy, please. I'm glad you think so. I'm so happy you could come stay with us."

"Thank you for having me," Kurt responded.

She took his hand in one of hers, and just looked at him for a moment. "My god, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you are absolutely beautiful."

Kurt's face heated up and he swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten such a genuine and lovely compliment from a complete stranger.

"You may say that as loudly and as often as you'd like," he quipped, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaine press his lips together to hold back a smile.

His mother laughed. "Oh, I like you."

Blaine's father was standing, too, pushing his chair back and taking the few steps forward to his wife, holding out a hand. "Peter."

Kurt blinked. "Your names are Peter and Wendy?"

Blaine made a noise next to him that sounded like he was choking.

Peter laughed softly. "We get that a lot."

He was average height- not short like Blaine, but not tall either. He had Blaine's jaw and Blaine's curly hair- actually, Kurt thought, age Blaine twenty-five years and that's about what he'd look like, with a few things different.

He got strange shivers when he thought about Blaine in twenty-five years, so he stopped thinking about it.

"Do you two want some lunch?" Wendy asked.

"Where's Layne?" Blaine said, his eyes searching the room.

"Something came up- Toby's parents popped in for a surprise visit and he didn't feel right turning them away. Layne called to say that you and Kurt can go and visit any time after two."

Blaine's shoulders sagged an infinitesimal amount, but he quickly straightened back up. "Okay."

They sat, Blaine pulling out a chair for Kurt next to his mother before taking his own seat across from Kurt. Kurt tried to ignore the fact that Jane's eyes narrowed from where she was over in the corner.

"So Kurt, Blaine tells me you're in the Warblers with him?" Wendy asked, taking a scoop of fruit salad from a bowl in the center of the table.

"I am. Blaine was kind enough to get me an audition when I transferred schools." He smiled at Blaine. "I'm a countertenor."

"He told me you have an incredible voice," Wendy said.

Kurt might have kicked Blaine, had he not been trying to make a good impression. "He flatters me."

He was still intensely aware of the girl sitting in the corner, her eyes fixed on him.

"Blaine said you love fashion, too, although that much is apparent in the way you dress. I love that bowtie, by the way."

Relaxing slightly, Kurt beamed. "Thank you. It was expensive and I had to ship it from England, but it was worth it."

"I take it you're a fan of McQueen?" Wendy asked.

Kurt opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted.

"Oh, wow," came a soft, musical voice from the corner. "Really, wow."

He saw Blaine's face freeze, Blaine's mother squeezing her eyes shut tightly.

Kurt turned his head to look at Jane inquisitively.

"There really is _so _much more crossing over these days, isn't there?" Her voice was deceptively gentle. "I mean, I thought _Blaine_ was flaming, but you just take flamboyant to a whole new level, don't you?"

She pushed herself up gracefully. "You are a walking, talking gay stereotype. It's _sickening _to look at you." She arched an eyebrow. "Is Blaine a pedophile as well as a _homosexual_?" she spat the word. "How old are you, twelve?"

She crossed to the door, wrapping her tiny hands around the knob. She looked back to Kurt, who was quite literally frozen in shock. "It seems Dalton will let just about anyone in these days. What a pity."

The door clicked shut behind her.

Blaine was shaking.

"I am _so_ sorry," Wendy breathed.

"No, no, it's fine," Kurt said, a little shaken. "It's nothing I haven't heard before. Granted, I haven't heard it put quite so _eloquently_, but..."

Blaine was still shaking across from him. He seemed on the verge of falling apart.

"Could you excuse us, please?" Kurt asked politely, reaching a hand across the table to grip Blaine's elbow, but meeting Wendy's and Peter's eyes.

"Of course," Peter murmured.

He led Blaine out the door, up the stairs, and back into Blaine's room. He sat him down on the bed, then crossed the room to shut the door.

"Kurt-" Blaine's voice was low. "I am so sorry."

"Don't," Kurt said, firmly. Blaine looked up to meet his eyes. "Don't apologize."

"I have to."

Kurt went to sit beside him on the bed. "No, you don't. I was telling the truth when I said it wasn't anything I haven't heard before. To be honest, the only reason I didn't retaliate is because I was shocked. I was under the impression she wasn't going to speak to me."

"I didn't think she was," Blaine said, sounding close to tears. "She never said a word to Wes or David-"

"Wes and David are straight," Kurt reminded him gently. "We should've expected things to be different with me."

"They shouldn't be," Blaine said fiercely. "I don't understand how I can both love and hate her so much."

Kurt laughed. "She's your sister. It's the way siblings work, for one reason or another."

"I need to call Layne," Blaine said suddenly. "I need you to meet her. To- to get rid of Jane, from your head. Thank god she didn't scare you off."

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed.

"What?" Blaine asked, almost self-consciously.

Kurt slid a hand over Blaine's. "How much will it take to convince you that your homophobic sister is not going to scare me off?"

For a long moment, Blaine just looked at him. Kurt couldn't understand the look in his eyes. He caught a few emotions- hope, gratitude, sadness- but they were fleeting, and quickly replaced with emotions he didn't understand and couldn't identify.

"I-" Blaine seemed to struggle with what to say. He opened and closed his mouth several times, his forehead creasing, apparently thinking hard. "_Thank you,_" he finally said, fervently.

Kurt understood what really couldn't be expressed in words. "Let's go meet Layne," he said, standing and pulling Blaine up with him.

"You're going to love her," Blaine said.

Kurt allowed Blaine to lead him down the stairs, and stood quietly while Blaine explained their plan to his parents.

The look on Wendy's face made Kurt's chest ache. She looked so at a _loss_ as to how to stop her son's suffering. It hurt her, to see her family like this. Her children. It hurt her that she couldn't help one without hurting the other.

"It was lovely to meet you both," Kurt murmured, and they returned the compliment.

Blaine's hands were tense around the steering wheel as he drove. The skin across his temple was stretched tight, his eyes locked on the road. Kurt longed to take one of Blaine's hands in his, but was too afraid of rejection to do so.

Finally, Blaine sighed, his shoulders relaxing.

"I know how terrible she is," he said. "I shouldn't let it get to me, but I do."

"Don't be upset with yourself," Kurt said softly.

"I just never thought those remarks would be aimed at you," Blaine said furiously. "You are the first friend of mine she's ever talked directly to."

"We'll talk about this later," Kurt said, as they pulled into Layne's driveway.

Blaine's hand brushed against his as they walked up the path. He stopped Kurt just before the front steps.

"I never want anyone to hurt you," Blaine said, in a low voice. "I couldn't stop Karofsky from hurting you with his words or his fists and I couldn't stop my sister from hurting you with _her _words- and I'm sure if she could use her fists, she would." He let out a shuddering breath. "You are the most- she had to have seen how important you were to me. She didn't do that to hurt you. Not completely. She did it to hurt me."

Kurt inhaled sharply. It wasn't a confession. In fact, Kurt wasn't exactly sure what it was. But it was something. And it somehow made Kurt feel as light as a feather and heartbroken at the same time. He reached out and took Blaine's hand.

"Come on," Blaine muttered, and they finished the walk up to Layne's front door.

**A/N: (1) This has legitimately happened before to me on a plane.**

**Except the boy was my brother.**

**That was awkward.**

**Soo... I'm sorry about leaving off there, but otherwise this chapter would have been hella long. And I have an eight-hour car trip to look forward to tomorrow to write a few more chapters. Hell yeah.**

**So sorry about that again.**


	13. Dancing in the Moonlight

**A/N: Wow, guys, your reviews. They make my heart go weeeeeeeeee :D**

**Jane, Jane, Jane. Oh god. **

**So, Blame It On The Alcohol- it makes me so sad that people are jumping the Klaine ship because of one fight Klaine had with each other. Cuz, really, guys? There are so many reasons Klaine WILL happen. But I'm not going to list them, because if you're reading this story then you most likely haven't jumped the ship.**

**All I'm going to say is that Kurt in his red shirt in BIOTA- holy fucking _hell_, he is so built and I want shirtless pictures. His pecs. His arms. His shoulders. He is so _hot. _I seriously just cannot get over how attracted to him I am. It's actually sad. **

**Klaine will be the most photogenic couple EVER. So damn attractive. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee in any way.**

Blaine was almost immediately bowled over by something small and enthusiastic when he opened the door. His first thought was to wonder when Layne had gotten quite so... slobbery. Then-

"You got a _dog_?"

Layne, from the doorway, laughed. "Toby's choice, not mine. His name's Flan."

Kurt blinked. "You named him after a _dessert_?"

"You must be Kurt," Layne said, offering a hand to him. "Blaine has told me _so _much about you."

"Likewise," Kurt said, taking her hand.

Layne looked eerily like Zooey Deschanel, but with darker skin and a different nose. Other than that, the likeness was incredible.

Layne bent over to pick up Flan, and Kurt took that opportunity to whisper to Blaine, "your family is incredibly photogenic."

"I take it you had the pleasure of meeting Jane?" Layne asked, straightening up with the squirming puppy in her arms.

"Tongue like a knife, that one," Kurt said.

Layne smiled apologetically. "I would say she was dropped on her head as a baby, but that obviously wasn't the case. She's just kind of a bitch."

"Layne!" Blaine snapped, but he had on that expression that he always had whenever Kurt made an inappropriate joke in front of the council- that expression like he was trying hard not to laugh.

Layne shrugged. "Sorry, St. Blaine," she said, teasingly. "We're not all perfect in every way like you."

Blaine swatted at her half-heartedly, and the two boys followed her into the house.

"You're early," she said in a slight whisper, "so Toby's parents haven't left yet." she hesitated. "They're Catholic."

Both Kurt and Blaine knew instantly what that meant. Blaine's jaw tightened visibly, and he nodded stiffly.

"Up the stairs, first door on the right," Layne whispered. "Wait up there, and try to be as quiet as you can."

She pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek, then unexpectedly grinned wickedly. "I've been subtly giving them hell," she said, and Kurt thought he saw a little bit of Blaine showing through in her smile.

"That's my girl," Blaine said proudly, though his smile didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I'll get rid of them," Layne promised, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze, then disappearing down the hallway.

Kurt followed Blaine up the stairs. "It's the guest room," he whispered as he turned the doorknob.

"Do guest rooms in Florida ordinarily contain cribs, changing tables, and murals of crocodiles doing ballet?" Kurt asked sarcastically, as the door swung open.

"Oh my god," Blaine whispered, his eyes fixed on the crib on the opposite side of the room, where a tiny form was just visible through the bars.

Blaine walked slowly, as if a mere shift in atmosphere might wake the sleeping infant.

Kurt took a few steps forward as Blaine reached one arm into the crib, lightly brushing his nephew's face with one fingertip.

Kurt couldn't see the baby, but he could hear him as he stirred and made a snuffling noise. Blaine sucked in a quick breath.

"Hi," he said, in a tone of voice Kurt had never heard him use before. He reached his other arm into the crib as well, and lifted up a bundle of blankets, cradling the child into his arms, turning to face Kurt.

The look on his face made Kurt's throat tighten up. He was staring with such awe and wonder and love in his gaze, so much protection and pure joy.

"Hi, Blaine," Blaine whispered softly, pulling the blanket back from the infant's head to stroke over the tiny wisps of black hair there, already forming into ringlets that were so similar to Blaine's. "I'm going to spoil you rotten," he whispered.

Seeing him standing there with a baby cradled in his arms, a baby with dark hair and indecisive eyes (that sort of gray-blue-green color that all babies' eyes were until they darkened and focused on a color- the color that Kurt had never outgrown), Kurt couldn't help but dream. To see, maybe ten years into the future, when Blaine was holding a baby with his hair and Kurt's eyes and nose- genetically impossible, of course, but an image he was surprised to find he wanted with such a ferocity that it actually _hurt_.

Blaine looked up at Kurt, and his smile was so brilliantly happy that for a moment, Kurt couldn't breathe.

"Come here," Blaine said, quietly. "Come meet him."

Hesitantly, Kurt moved to his side to peer down at the baby. Up close, he seemed even tinier. Kurt suddenly felt his heart swell protectively, which was ridiculous because he wasn't even _related _to this baby and he'd never had a particularly large maternal instinct, contrary to what the Glee boys seemed to think. But this little Blaine reminded him so much of the teenage Blaine holding him that he simply couldn't help it.

He tipped his head forward to rest his chin on Blaine's shoulder. "Hi," he breathed, gazing down at the infant, who gazed back up. "You're so little."

Blaine laughed, and Kurt could feel the reverberations of it all through his chest, where it was pressed against Blaine's back. It threw him off-kilter, and he moved one hand to the opposite hip from the shoulder his chin was currently resting on, to balance himself. Too late, he realized he was actually somewhat embracing Blaine now.

"This is Kurt," Blaine said to his nephew. "He's my best friend and he's going to be the one to pick out all the clothes I'm going to be sending to you."

Kurt grinned (maybe a little goofily) at little Blaine, and both boys started when the baby giggled. It was possibly the cutest thing Kurt had ever heard- bubbly and right and innocent- and Kurt fell a little bit more in love with the idea of a baby.

Baby Blaine yawned then, his little fists curling in an attempt to stretch, and blinked sleepily at the two. Kurt's other hand came up to grip Blaine's other hip, so focused on the baby that he didn't notice when Blaine drew in a shaky breath at the contact.

"We should sing a lullaby to him," Kurt whispered.

A soft smile appeared on Blaine's face. "I like that idea." He began to hum softly, and after a moment, Kurt picked up on what song it was, and began to sing.

_I'm being followed by a moonshadow_

_ moonshadow, moonshadow_

_ leaping and hopping on a moonshadow_

_ moonshadow, moonshadow_

Blaine's voice joined in, crooning softly.

_and if I ever lose my hands_

_ lose my plow, lose my land_

_ if I ever lose my hands_

_ away..._

_ I won't have to work no more..._

xxxxx

"Have a safe trip home," Layne called in an almost-sarcastic tone, waving her in-laws out the door. She briefly considered flipping them off behind their backs, but ultimately decided that it would just be juvenile and immature.

"Okay, Layne, do you want to tell me what that was about?" Toby asked, his arms folded across his chest. "You just nearly _pushed_ then out of the house."

"Guess who was at the door?" Layne asked.

Toby raised an eyebrow. "You said it was the FedEx man."

"Not exactly." Layne beamed at him. "Blaine! Blaine's here! Early, because- well, he's here, at any rate."

Instantly, the annoyed expression fell from Toby's face. "Really? Where is he?" He asked, eagerly.

"He and Kurt are up in Blaine Jr's room," Layne said happily, bouncing a little on her toes. "I thought he'd like to meet his nephew."

Toby grabbed her hand and dragged her in for a quick kiss before rolling his eyes fondly. "I'll go make something for lunch for all of us, go visit with them, I know you want to." He released her hand.

She had at least the presence of mind not to tear up the stairs, because the last two times she'd done that she'd broken some expensive heirloom from one of their families. She walked quietly, calmly. Or at least, as quietly and calmly as she knew how to.

Blaine Jr's door was ajar, and there was the soft, crooning sound of singing voices drifting from it. She walked even more quietly, creeping up to the door and resting her head against the door frame.

What she saw was possibly the most beautiful thing she'd _ever_ seen.

Blaine was holding her sleeping son in his arms, his taller friend behind him with his chin resting on Blaine's shoulder and his arms wrapped around Blaine's waist. Both boys had turned their faces to look at each other, the last notes of their lullaby still hanging in the air.

The expression on both of their faces was identical, and not something Layne had ever seen on two teenagers' faces. They weren't looking at each other like two boys with crushes, they were looking at each other like two boys completely and utterly in love and completely and utterly terrified of it.

What were the chances of meeting your soul mate in high school? Not very high. What were the chances of finding love- real and pure and the kind that rang of _forever_- in your first relationship? Again, not very high.

These were the gazes of two terrified boys so deeply in love that they didn't know what to do- petrified that they would ruin what they had, petrified that their feelings weren't returned, petrified that they could love someone that deeply and completely at only seventeen years old.

The moment broke when Blaine dropped his gaze first, his cheeks red. He murmured something quietly, and Kurt removed his arms from around his waist.

Kurt's eyes followed Blaine as Blaine lifted the baby into the crib. The smile playing around his lips that accompanied the soft expression in his eyes told Layne everything she needed to know.

"Glad you met him," Layne said.

Blaine stubbed his toe on the crib. "You know you can't just _scare _me like that," he hissed violently.

Kurt's hand came up to cover his smile.

"Toby's downstairs making lunch," Layne said. "He can't wait to see you, Blaine. And we want to know Kurt. You have a lovely voice," she said to Kurt. "I heard it when I was coming up the stairs."

The boy flushed delicately, and it was probably the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. He was gorgeous, really- his picture had done neither his flawless skin nor his ever-changing eyes justice.

"Thank you," Kurt said, in a quiet voice.

In a movement none of them really expected, Blaine lunged forward into Layne's arms, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face into her shoulder. "He's beautiful," he said in a muffled voice, one that seemed to be shaking a little.

Layne brought up one hand to stroke her fingers across Blaine's curls. "If he turns out to be half as brave and talented and wonderful as you are, I'll have done my job decently."

Blaine felt Kurt's hand land in between his shoulder blades, a comforting pressure that didn't move to pat or rub his back, but was just _there_.

"C'mon," Layne said, pulling back and offering a warm smile. "I bet we can bug Toby until he makes cupcakes."

They followed Layne down the stairs, slipping into seats in the old-fashioned breakfast nook.

"So, Kurt, what year are you?" Toby asked, setting down a plate in front of Kurt.

Kurt exchanged a quick glance with Blaine before answering. "I'm a junior, like Blaine."

"And you're new to Dalton?" Layne asked, sitting across from the two boys.

"He's a midyear transfer," Blaine confirmed.

"There are benefits to transferring right before Christmas break," Kurt said, nudging Blaine.

"Such as?" Layne asked.

"A single room," Kurt said smugly.

Blaine grumbled something under his breath.

"So, what's on the agenda this afternoon?" Toby asked, sitting down next to Layne with his own plate.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged another quick glance, then looked at the other two. "Shopping," they said at the same time.

"Ooh, I'm envious," Layne said. "It's been a long time since I've been."

"Come with us!" Kurt said, fluttering his hands a little in excitement. "If you'd like to go, I mean."

"Kurt likes to dress people," Blaine explained, shrugging. "In his eyes, we're all Barbie and Ken dolls, existing solely for his styling pleasure."

"I never had a Barbie doll," Kurt said, a little wistfully. "Only Power Rangers."

"Are you implying that I need a makeover?" Layne asked, sounding as if she was uncertain whether she should be offended or not.

"Purple is such a good color for your skin," Kurt said, clasping his hands in front of him beseechingly.

"I trust you," Layne said, "only because your bow tie is fabulous."

"It has a _clock_ in it," Toby said, as if noticing for the first time.

"It's fashion," Kurt said haughtily.

"Oh," Layne said, as if something had occurred to her. "You don't have to go back to Mom and Dad's tonight, right? No family plans?"

"Why?" Blaine asked suspiciously.

"Toby's friends have a party just about every Friday," Layne said. "I'm going to drop Baby Blaine off at Mom and Dad's house, and then you guys could come with us. It's an open bonfire down on the beach."

There was a beat of silence. Layne seemed to sense the skepticism in the air. "You can bring your guitar."

"Sold," Blaine said. Kurt rolled his eyes.

xxxxx

"Go try this on," Kurt insisted, throwing the shirt into Layne's arms, on top of an already too-large pile.

"It's going to take me an hour to get through this pile," Layne protested.

Kurt made a big show of tugging his bowtie away from his neck to check the time. "And the party doesn't start until seven. Go ahead."

Layne sighed dramatically, and made an even bigger show than Kurt of dragging her feet as she headed off towards the dressing room.

Blaine's head popped up from behind a rack of dresses. "What's got her knickers in a twist?"

"British," Kurt said accusingly, pointing at Blaine.

"It's a problem," Blaine said, disappearing again.

"Men's section, Blaine," Kurt said. "Come on. Layne's going to be a while, and I want to find you some clothing that isn't red or blue."

"You offend me," Blaine said, but followed Kurt willingly enough.

Kurt plucked a black leather jacket off a hanger. "Please, please try this on."

"Now?" Blaine said, uncertainly. "Really? I never really thought that leather was my-"

"Now," Kurt interrupted, in that no-nonsense tone of his that didn't warrant any arguments. "Blaine."

Blaine quickly slipped out of his current jacket, and into the verymasculine leather one that Kurt was holding out.

He spun around a little goofily. "Well? What do you think?"

"Very sexy," Kurt drawled, and Blaine tried not to focus on the way Kurt's tongue curled around the words, just as Kurt tried not to focus on the way the jacket pulled across Blaine's arms and shoulders...

"Get it," Kurt decided, and Blaine decided that if it made Kurt look at him like that, it was worth whatever amount of money it was going to be.

"Shirts," Kurt said, after a moment's silence. "Collared shirts. Green. Here." He tossed that to Blaine, too.

Hopefully, Blaine picked up a pale orange shirt, and held it up.

Kurt actually _shuddered. _"Blaine, orange is a horrendous color. It doesn't look good on _anyone_ and it's just revolting. Put that down."

Embarrassed, Blaine put the shirt back on the shelf.

"You are so lucky you have me," Kurt said teasingly, patting Blaine's arm.

Blaine followed Kurt through the store as he pulled other clothing off random racks and shelves, tossing them into Blaine's arms. He had a towering stack nearly as high as Layne's by the time he stumbled into the dressing rooms.

Kurt had a few articles of clothing folded over his arms that were strange in different ways, but Blaine knew that when Kurt actually put them on he would not only pull them off, but make them look sexy as hell somehow.

There was only one dressing room open- the slightly larger, handicapped one.

Blaine could practically _hear _the tension crackling. He was sure he didn't imagine that Kurt's voice was slightly higher and breathier than normal when he said, "we might as well just share."

Blaine cleared his throat lightly, so his voice wouldn't betray him and crack when he answered. "Sounds sensible to me."

They turned their backs on each other to give as much privacy as possible, but was it _really_ Blaine's fault that three of the four walls were covered in mirrors, and that he caught little glimpses of Kurt's skin- the muscles shifting in his back, the long curve of his spine, the milky-white smooth skin that he sort of just wanted to lean over and-

Okay, so he couldn't think about this, not in a dressing room in a public place when they were both half-naked. He couldn't think this about his _friend_, because that was just... wrong. And thinking something like that about his best friend just somehow felt like a betrayal of Kurt's trust.

"What do you think?" Kurt asked softly, spinning for Blaine's approval.

The sweater was blue, and flattering to Kurt's skin tone, and flattering to Kurt's _shape_, which had Blaine thinking all sorts of inappropriate things, and ohgod he was blushing, he could feel it. He tugged at his collar. "It's... it's good."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, uncertainly, looking into the mirror behind Blaine. "You seem... unsure."

"Get it," Blaine said, firmly, trying to keep his eyes away from Kurt's chest and failing.

"Okay..." Kurt said, slowly, pivoting on his heel to turn his back to Blaine as he pulled the sweater back over his head. "Have you had any luck?"

Blaine, who had averted his eyes politely, looked back to his pile. "You didn't let me get anything red or blue."

"Because, Blaine, those are the only colors you own," Kurt said impatiently, his voice a little muffled as he tugged another shirt over his head. "You need to broaden your horizons."

"I resent you," Blaine mumbled half-heartedly, buttoning up a pale purple button-down. "I can't pass as straight when I'm wearing these clothes."

He could practically _hear_ Kurt's raised eyebrow. "Did you want to?"

"No more free ice creams from waitresses because they think I'm hitting on them," Blaine said, sadly, and this time he could almost hear Kurt's eyeroll.

"You're an idiot," Kurt said, but it was with a fond tone, so Blaine wasn't offended.

There was a knock on the door. "Kurt? Blaine?"

"Layne?" Blaine called, although it was obvious it was her. "Come in, the door's unlocked."

"Only if you two are decent," Layne called back.

Blaine yanked open the door, his blush evident. "Get in here," he snapped at a smirking Layne, tugging her into the dressing room.

"Did you find anything from what I picked for you?" Kurt asked, finishing buttoning the bright red shirt that would look ridiculous on anyone else, but somehow manages to look absolutely delicious on him.

"A few dresses," Layne started, but stopped and let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"Buy that shirt."

His forehead crinkled. "What?"

"Seriously. You look..." she seemed to be contemplating what the correct word was. "Really hot."

"Really?" Kurt leaned in closer to the mirror to examine himself.

"Yes." Suddenly, Layne turned to Blaine, a shit-eating grin on her face. He felt his stomach sink. She wouldn't- "Doesn't he, Blaine?"

Kurt was looking at Blaine expectantly. He could not, _not _let that face down, especially if he'd be lying.

He took a deep breath. "Yes," he admitted, and tried not to read too much into the grin that broke across Kurt's face.

xxxxx

Blaine was strumming away happily on his guitar, a fast-paced and distinctly bitter song about a remorseful lover who'd hurt his beloved.

_But it was not your fault but mine_

_ and it was your heart on the line_

_ I really fucked it up this time_

_ didn't I, my dear?_

Layne had somewhat expected Kurt to be with him, sitting by his side and happily harmonizing, adding a haunting echo to the music, but Kurt was nowhere to be seen. Deciding that Blaine was well-off enough as he was, with an admiring pack of girl-groupies around him (she couldn't _wait_ until he had to explain why he was rejecting them- it never got old), she set off in search of Kurt.

She found him easily enough- he was the lone figure at the end of the long pier, a dark silhouette against the bright light of the moon. His feet dangled from the edge of the dock.

She plopped down next to him gracelessly.

He acknowledged her with a smile and a lift of his diet coke bottle- a quick toast before he drank.

"What are you doing, moping over here?"

He laughed. "Not moping. Pondering."

"About?"

"The moon." He didn't elaborate. "Existence. Jane. _Blaine_."

"Ah." She chewed her lip as she thought that over. Maybe he thought she wouldn't notice the emphasis on the last word, but she did. "And how long, exactly, have you been in love with my brother?"

He fell off the dock with a startled splash.

Layne, who hadn't quite been expecting that, began to laugh. Kurt resurfaced with a splutter, spitting water away from his face.

"I am going to _kill_ you," he said, evenly, hoisting himself out of the water and back onto the dock.

Layne noticed with the vague, female, un-married part of her mind the way his now-soaked t-shirt clung to his stomach and chest, and the way the muscles in his arms shifted when he pulled himself onto the dock.

_Nice catch, Blaine, _she caught herself thinking appreciatively.

"Do you know how _long_ it is going to take for my hair and skin to recover from that kind of treatment?" Kurt demanded.

Layne shook her head, trying not to grin.

"That is _salt water_, Layne," Kurt said furiously, running one hand through his hair and sweeping it back from his face, making his cheekbones look even more angular.

"You're avoiding the subject," Layne said sternly. "I asked you how long you've been in love with my brother." She grabbed his arm quickly, as if expecting him to fall off the dock again.

Instead, Kurt's eyes flickered to Blaine, who was still by the campfire, this time standing on one of the log-benches and singing to a four year old girl who was staring up at him with stars in her eyes.

The way that Kurt looked at her brother was beautiful. The complete and pure love in his gaze astonished her. She'd never thought any boy would be good enough for her little brother, after all that he'd been made to suffer through.

But with the moonlight reflecting off his porcelain skin, his shirt clinging to his body, his unreal eyes glinting softly with an expression she'd never seen aimed at her brother before, Kurt Hummel looked like some sort of Greek God- unreal, perfect, and maybe deserving of Blaine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kurt said finally, turning back to look at her. A drop of water was clinging to his jaw, right where it met his ear. She waited until it fell before saying anything.

"Yes, you do. You're just not _ready_ to know what I'm talking about." She smiled understandingly. "Being in love is a scary thing, a difficult thing to come to terms with, and you should just know-"

She broke off when Kurt began laughing.

"What?" she asked indignantly.

"I think you and Blaine read the same self-help books," Kurt managed.

She shoved him a little, and he gripped the edge of the dock so as not to fall off.

Blaine struck up a new tune, joined by a person who'd pulled out a flute, and another who'd set up their keyboard on the sand. It was happy, and bouncy, and as Blaine began to sing, the people gathered around the fire began to clap along.

"Come on, come dance with me," Layne said, leaping up and tugging on Kurt's hand until he followed her back to the circle.

Blaine grinned at them as Kurt wrapped one arm around Layne's waist and clasped Layne's hand in his.

_Everybody here is out of sight_

_ they don't bark and they don't bite_

_ they keep things loose, they keep it tight_

_ everybody's dancing in the moonlight_

He spun and dipped Layne, and she laughed in delighted surprise, clinging to his shoulder. Blaine passed his guitar off to a guy next to him, then caught Layne on the next spin and pulled her into his arms. Kurt laughed, clapping along, and watched Blaine twirl his sister around by the fire.

_Dancing in the moonlight_

_ everybody's feeling warm and bright_

_ it's such a fine and natural sight_

_everybody's dancing in the moonlight_

It was rare, because of all that had already happened in Kurt's life, but sometimes he just got this _feeling_ in his chest. When he saw something beautiful and he thought about how truly wonderful and amazing life and the world could be. The moments were few and far between, but they would come at the most random of times- when it was January and he caught a sudden warm breeze that smelled of spring, when he watched Puck pull a geek out of a dumpster and brush him off apologetically, when he watched all of his friends singing together and just having fun.

This moment, watching Blaine and his older sister have such a moment of love and happiness together, dancing and singing to each other, was one of the more beautiful ones he'd ever seen.

_We like our fun and we never fight_

_ You can't dance and stay uptight_

_ it's a supernatural delight_

_ everybody's dancing in the moonlight_

_ Dancing in the moonlight_

_ everybody's feeling warm and bright_

_ it's such a fine and natural sight_

_ everybody's dancing in the moonlight..._

_ everybody's dancing in the moonlight..._

_ dancing in the moonlight..._

**A/N: So I've already started on the next chapter.**

**Weird. My last Klaine story, I was wrapping up the story at this point. If I wrapped this up now, I think you all might kill me, because that would leave so many loose endings :P no worries. I intend on continuing this until... well, I don't know. Until whenever things get resolved. Exciting things coming up, I think. I can't be sure, because sometimes characters just take control of the story.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked Layne!**


	14. Rain

** A/N: Before I begin the next chapter of the story, I would like to discuss one thing in the previous chapter that I know slightly offended a few readers: Layne's comment about Toby's "Catholic" parents. **

** To address this: I am a writer. The opinions of the characters I create do not necessarily reflect my own opinions or beliefs. I have a very religious Catholic friend who also happens to be bisexual- I understand that not all Catholics are homophobic. I, myself, am a Protestant by affiliation and the church I used to attend was very warm and welcoming and open.**

** However, Layne's only experiences with religious people have been bad ones, mostly involving her standing up for her younger brother against homophobes. She is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, and her outlook is very limited, much like Kurt's. **

** In fact, she and Kurt share very similar outlooks on religion. Both of their reasoning lies behind their experiences of homophobic religious people, which has had a direct impact on both of their lives. Like Kurt, Layne is very much an atheist.**

** Interestingly enough, Blaine is _not_. He firmly believes in God. He's not religious in the conventional sense; he doesn't even own a Bible. But he believes more in the idea of _something _out there, something bigger than us. He prays when he needs guidance. **

** To reiterate: I don't necessarily believe the things I have my characters say, any more than the writers of Glee do, or any of the actors who portray those characters do. However, I understand and appreciate the concern that I may have offended some Catholics by making such a generalized assumption in Layne's dialog. **

** Phew. Okay. Now. Have you guys heard the Regionals spoilers yet? If half of that stuff is true, this is going to be one bitchin' episode. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

Blaine woke up Saturday morning with Kurt once again tucked under his arm, cuddled up to his shoulder. He took a moment to inhale deeply and smile happily to himself, pulling the other boy in closer and wrapping an arm more tightly around him.

He could _really_ get used to this.

Kurt mumbled something sleepily, burrowing his face into Blaine's chest, rubbing his eyes blearily with one fist.

"Good morning," Blaine said calmly.

Kurt's entire body twitched and he jerked his head back, staring at Blaine. "Oh my god, I thought you were a pillow!"

Blaine laughed. "Ready for another adventure?"

Kurt sat up, running one hand through his adorably ruffled hair. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"I was thinking... you haven't gone swimming in the gulf yet," Blaine suggested.

"One, yes I have, technically. I fell off the pier last night." Kurt said.

"I was wondering why you were soaking wet."

"Two, no, do you know what salt water will do to my skin?"

Blaine pursed his lips, thinking hard. He wanted Kurt to experience gulf swimming, and seeing Kurt in a bathing suit was just an added bonus.

"How's this," he said, finally. "You come swimming with me today, and I wall schedule appointments for us tomorrow at the best spa around- for the full works. Whatever you want."

It was worth the money he'd have to shell out for the grin on Kurt's face. "It's a deal," Kurt said happily.

"I call first shower," Blaine said, leaping out of the bed and grabbing his towel off the hook on the wall before Kurt could say anything else.

Jane was, unsurprisingly, absent from breakfast. Other than a slight clench of Blaine's fists, he appeared not to notice the missing girl.

"What are you two up to today?" Wendy asked. She seemed almost apologetic, and her eyes kept darting to the corner where Jane would normally be sitting.

"We were going to go swimming," Blaine said, his mouth twisting into a smile. He glanced sideways at Kurt. "Kurt's never swum in the ocean before."

"Really?" Wendy asked in surprise.

Kurt shrugged. "We never went when I was younger, and I sort of refused to go when I was older. Bad for your skin," he explained, at Wendy's questioning look.

"I was thinking we'd just pack a picnic," Blaine said.

Wendy tossed an apple at Kurt, who caught it with one hand.

"Have fun," she said.

Kurt tried not to look confused.

He shouldn't have been surprised at the sheer size of the Andersons' kitchen. And he wasn't, really, although he did wonder why on earth a family their size would need four ovens.

He tried to act unfazed as Blaine pulled a picnic basket down from the top of the very large pantry.

"I know you're particular about what you eat," Blaine said, "so choose what you want. I'll eat whatever you pack."

"Of course you will," Kurt said, rolling his eyes fondly, and strolling over to open the other pantry door.

There was just so much _food_.

Blaine began pulling fruit out of various cupboards, along with cutting boards, and Kurt threw several varieties of granola bars into the basket, before joining Blaine at the counter. He took his own knife and cutting board and began slicing pineapples in an intricate fashion, something his mom had shown him nine years ago.

It was sort of like the other night with Blaine Jr again. Something inside Kurt's head couldn't help but think of what things could be like in ten years, in twenty years- flashing images of what it would be like if he and Blaine were doing this in their own house- laughing and talking and cutting fruit into a fruit salad, their hips bumping together companionably. Something in his chest twisted.

Before he could stop himself, he imagined further. He imagined coming home in the evening to Blaine cooking something on the stove, he imagined himself hanging up a Rick Owens coat and walking up behind Blaine to place a hand on his hip and a kiss on his cheek. He imagined the way Blaine would laugh, turning into the embrace.

"Kurt?"

Kurt blinked.

Blaine was grinning at him. "You zoned out a little there."

"Sorry," Kurt said, a little breathlessly, reaching for an apple.

"Don't apologize, I was just worried you were going to cut your fingers off," Blaine said, nudging Kurt a little with his hip. "The situation had 'potential disaster' written all over it."

Kurt finished slicing the apple he was working on and dropped the wedges into the Tupperware container filled with various pieces of fruit.

"Ready to go?" Blaine asked, tucking a loaf of bread into the basket, filled with bright-eyed enthusiasm. Kurt couldn't help but smile as he stepped forward to take the basket from him, and gestured for him to lead the way.

xxxxx

"Come on!" Blaine splashed a little in the water around his waist, as if to demonstrate how much fun it could be. "This water is about seventy degrees. Please?"

Kurt sniffed haughtily. "It's also salt water, Blaine."

"And I promised you a trade," Blaine said, patiently. "Salt water for spa day. Come on."

"It feels so wrong. My skin will be so angry with me," Kurt muttered, gingerly wading up to his knees into the water.

"Forget the consequences on your skin for five minutes and just enjoy how it feels," Blaine said, leaning back until he was floating on the surface of the ocean, staring up into the sun, directly overhead. "Isn't it nice?"

Kurt sighed, then admitted, "it's wonderful, actually."

It was worth sacrificing his pride and skincare regimen to see the beaming smile that spread across Blaine's face at his words.

"Now, was that so painful?"

"Yes," Kurt muttered, and Blaine's grin widened.

"Come on." He reached for Kurt's hand.

Hesitantly, Kurt took it, allowing himself to be pulled deeper into the water. It _was_ warm, caressing his body in a soothing way.

"Dunk your head under," Blaine challenged.

Kurt glared at him. "Are you insane?"

"I get that question far more than I'm comfortable with," Blaine said, thoughtfully.

"I'm serious, Blaine," Kurt said warningly.

"So am I. Come on, I'll do it too."

"Like that counts for anything," Kurt grumbled, but he took Blaine's hand. "You owe me. Big time."

"I already owe you big time, for a lot more things than this."

Kurt raised his eyes to Blaine, who was determinedly avoiding his gaze, a faint blush staining his cheeks.

"You don't owe me for anything else," Kurt said quietly. He wasn't sure if Blaine had heard, but after a moment, Blaine turned to smile at him.

"So, are you ready to do this?"

"I can't believe I'm actually letting you."

But it was hard to deny Blaine anything, especially when he was smiling like that, so he took a deep breath, and let Blaine pull him underwater.

It was surprisingly easy, being carefree. After their muscles had grown tired from swimming, the two dragged themselves out of the water onto the beach, collapsing onto their already laid-out towels.

The beach was surprisingly empty for such a beautiful day. There were as few other families as there were clouds in the sky.

Kurt rolled his head to the side. Blaine had his eyes closed, his face tilted to the sun. His eyelashes were wet and clumped in tiny points, casting shadows just below his eyelids. For a moment, Kurt could only stare in dazed distraction.

After a minute, Blaine rolled his head to the side as well, and his eyelashes fluttered open. He smiled a lazy smile. "Hey."

"Why isn't anyone here?" Kurt asked.

Blaine let his eyes drift shut again. His lips moved. "This is more of a private beach than a tourist beach," he murmured. "So while this seventy degree weather is like heaven to us, the locals are shut up in their houses wearing sweatshirts with the heat cranked up."

Kurt yawned widely.

"Might as well enjoy this vacation as long as it lasts," Blaine said, stretching his arms over his head. "You know as soon as we get back we'll be worked to the bone for Regionals."

"Wes the perfectionist," Kurt said fondly.

"We only have two weeks," Blaine reminded him. "He has a right to be type-A about it."

Kurt sighed. "I guess I just still can't believe how _different _this all is from my old school. At McKinley, we didn't even start worrying about our numbers until the week before."

"To each their own," Blaine said, and his tone was actually a little wistful.

Kurt propped his head up on one hand. "What's up?"

"Do you ever miss them?" Blaine asked, answering Kurt's question with another.

Kurt laughed incredulously. "Are you kidding me? I miss them _all the time_. I mean, I got to see them at Mercedes' party, but that's because she's my best friend. She would have killed them if they didn't invite me. They've already started to forget about me, I can feel it. They forget to invite me to their parties. They're forgetting me."

"You're not happy at Dalton." It wasn't a question.

Kurt hesitated, then rolled back onto his back. "It's nice. I like it there. It's peaceful and drama-free and relaxing. But it isn't the same. There isn't any energy, any chaos- and I thrive on chaos." He shot a grin at Blaine. "The Warblers are a community- a hard-working group of business-like equals who respect and value each other's opinions, and that's something New Directions will never have. But New Directions is like a family. A large family that fights and talks over one another and participates in so many make-ups, break-ups, and _hook-ups_ that I need a flow chart to keep track of who's dating who."

"Do you all really only date amongst yourselves?" Blaine asked. "I kind of thought Puck was kidding when he said that."

"It's all very incestuous," Kurt said cheerfully. "Mercedes and I are the only ones who, for the most part, have been able to stay out of the tangled knot of relationship lines criss-crossing the New Directions family tree."

"It's really that bad?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Puck has dated Mercedes, Quinn, and Rachel, and slept with Santana, Brittany, and Quinn. Quinn dated Finn, then Puck, then Sam, and now is off dating all together. Rachel has dated Puck and Finn, and Jesse- he was part of our club for a while. Santana and Brittany sort of date each other, but also have dated Puck and Finn- the two of them together. Artie was dating Tina, but now he's with Brittany and Tina is with Mike. Sam is sort of with Santana after breaking up with Quinn." He took a deep breath.

Blaine was staring at him. "I'd forgotten what it was like at a public, co-ed school."

Kurt giggled. "I don't think every school is like ours. We're a... special case."

"It sounds... amazing," Blaine said, and there was a definite wistful tone in his voice this time.

"You weren't in the show choir at your old school, right?" Kurt asked, although he already knew the answer.

"No." Blaine plucked at a loose thread on his swim trunks. "I never had enough courage. I guess that's why it was so easy for me to transfer. There wasn't anything to hold me to my old school."

"You really regret it, don't you?" Kurt asked cautiously, aware that he was treading on delicate territory. "Leaving. Not standing up."

Blaine sighed heavily. "I feel like a coward," he admitted.

"Don't," Kurt said sharply. "You made the right decision. I tried the whole courage thing, and it landed me with my lips mauled by a bully who then later threatened to kill me."

"My terrible advice-giving skills have nothing to do with my cowardice, unless we're making a list of my various flaws," Blaine said.

"Stop it," Kurt said, firmly. "Don't do this to yourself."

Blaine's eyes locked on his- for a moment, he seemed about to argue. Then he relented, his shoulders sagging. "Fine."

He wasn't convinced, Kurt was aware. He'd known since the moment he met Blaine that Blaine was ashamed of his own cowardice- he'd seen it in Blaine's eyes when the other boy had said "I ran".

An idea began to form in his head- one so far-fetched and unrealistic that he didn't dare voice it out loud. But it was something to cling to, some sort of hope he could keep to himself until the time came.

"Could you tell me about your mother?" Blaine asked, after a moment of silence. His voice was careful, timid.

Kurt thought for a minute. "She was so full of life. She was a runner and a dancer and in high school, she'd been a cheerleader. She bought me my first pair of ballet shoes. She used to sing me to sleep every night."

Blaine smiled softly.

"Her favorite flowers were sunflowers, and Dad and I used to bring them to the end of every race she ran. She did distance- road races. 5 k's, 10 k's, half-marathons. She wanted to train to run a full marathon." He tapped his fingers thoughtfully against his thigh. "It takes a special person to run long-distance," he explained. "It's not just physically exhausting, but mentally as well. And she was the strongest person I knew, right up until her death."

He could feel the heat prickling behind his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry in front of Blaine again. That had already happened more times than he could count. "What about you?" He asked quickly.

Blaine's brow furrowed. "You've met my mom."

"I mean Jane," Kurt said. "What was she like, before you two- before?"

"We- we used to do duets," Blaine said, quietly. "She has a lovely voice, and it was the only time she got to sing with someone else, because she's home schooled. We used to sing 'A Little Priest' together, and dance around the kitchen like Mrs. Lovett and Sweeney Todd- Mom and Dad would yell at me for that, because she was so fragile, I could drop her and something could happen. Dancing wasn't safe for her." He thought for another moment. "She's obsessed with penguins, and she loves Harry Potter more than almost anything."

He laughed at the incredulous look on Kurt's face. "She's a real person, Kurt. She has quirks and obsessions and dreams. She's not this cold to everyone."

"It's just hard for me to imagine," Kurt murmured.

"She's terrible at Physics," Blaine continued. "She speaks Spanish fluently. She's allergic to cats and overuses the word 'bizarre'."

Kurt smiled.

"Or at least, she was all of those things when we were fourteen," Blaine said, his voice pained. "I wouldn't know anymore. Maybe all that's changed." He squeezed his eyes shut.

"There is nothing wrong with you," Kurt said in a low voice, rolling onto his side again. "There are many things wrong with her."

Blaine's eyes flew open.

Their faces were closer than they'd ever been before. Kurt could count the individual freckles on Blaine's face, almost indistinguishable from his honey skin. They were so close, their breath mixed together.

Kurt's heart was pounding. Blaine's hand crept over his. What did it _mean_? Blaine's breath quickened, his head tipping towards Kurt's.

Kurt jerked reflexively when the first raindrop hit his cheek, and accidentally broke any moment that could have been happening. Other drops followed in quick succession, splatting against his face, his arms, his hair. He shielded his eyes, glancing to the sky. He'd been so caught up in Blaine that he hadn't noticed the clouds rolling in.

Thunder grumbled across the sky, followed by a loud boom.

Blaine swore, wrenching his hand from Kurt's and leaping to gather the basket and towels off the sand.

Kurt tilted his face up to the sky, enjoying the way the rain hit his face, enjoying the smell of the rain- clean, crisp, wet.

"Come on!" Blaine called over the roaring sound of the approaching downpour, reaching for Kurt with his free hand. Their hands slid together wetly, their fingers intertwining, and Blaine began to run, dragging Kurt with him.

The house wasn't far. Still, the rain was so heavy that when the two reached the front porch, they were soaked to the bone. Blaine tossed the picnic basket and towels onto the porch and turned to call to Kurt.

"Come on!" He had to yell it, because Kurt had stopped ten feet away from the porch, his head thrown back, arms spread wide.

"Why bother?" Kurt yelled back. "We're already wet! What's a little more water? Come over here!"

Kurt's hair was plastered to his forehead. His grin was so wide his eyes seemed to be slits. He was spinning around in circles, his arms flying wildly with him. Added together, all of this should have made Kurt appear about twelve years old, and yet he'd never been so _beautiful_ to Blaine. So simple- no fancy clothes, no immaculate hairstyle.

Just _Kurt._

Kurt looked carefree, for once in his life. He looked as if he'd never had to experience the death of a loved one, or the sort of terror that came with a hate threat, or the heartbreak of a first rejection. He looked innocent and happy and so full of joy as he stretched one hand out to Blaine, beckoning him off the porch and out into the storm.

"Who are you?" Blaine blurted, before he could stop himself.

Laughing, Kurt twined his fingers through Blaine's, twirling him around in a strange sort of spin. "No one of consequence."

Recognizing the reference, Blaine countered delightedly, "I must know."

Kurt's eyes were alight. "Get used to disappointment!" he cried, over a particularly loud clap of thunder.

"We're going to get struck by lightning!" Blaine yelled.

"Are you ten feet tall or made of metal?" Kurt yelled back.

"Was that a jab against my height?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, slipping an arm around Blaine's waist and pulling him in. His skin burned where Kurt touched it. It wasn't until Kurt brought Blaine's hand up to his own shoulder that he realized what they were doing.

Dancing.

"My mom would always do this with me," Kurt said into Blaine's ear. Blaine's grip on Kurt's shoulder tightened. "Every time it rained. We'd go outside and dance- the waltz, the tango, ballet, tap... salsa..."

That got a small smile out of Blaine.

"I haven't done it since then," Kurt said. "I never wanted to share it with anyone."

The arm around Blaine's waist tightened as Kurt revolved them in slow circles, to some tune that only existed in Kurt's head.

"Except you."

Kurt's voice was low. Maybe he hadn't intended for Blaine to hear it, except that his eyes were fixed on Blaine's, burning straight into his skull, down his neck, through his chest, his stomach, down his backbone.

Blaine's heart fluttered hummingbird-fast against his ribcage.

There was a loud clap that was most certainly not thunder and both of them jumped.

The screen door slapped against the frame a few more times, growing quieter and quieter. Jane folded her arms.

Slowly, Kurt's arm slipped from around Blaine's waist. He watched the color mount on Blaine's neck and cheeks as the other boy slowly moved back to the porch and his waiting sister. He gathered up the basket and towels, casting one apologetic look back to Kurt before opening the door and disappearing into the house.

Kurt felt anger swelling inside him. He wasn't an angry person generally, but sometimes everything just- he was angry at Jane, angry at Blaine, angry at the _world_. He wasn't a violent person- how could he be, after Karofsky? But for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to kick something, break something, break _Jane_. But the moment was fleeting, and he was left instead with his most powerful weapon- his words.

"_What are you so scared of?_" Kurt screamed, and some vague part of his mind wondered why the words were so familiar on his lips. "It's _love,_ it's _love, I love him!_ Can't you _see _that?"

Lightening flashed overhead as he bellowed at the tiny girl standing on the porch, whose smirk was fading.

"It's not wrong, it's just love! Are you so scared of being alone that you can't even give your brother a _small_ piece of happiness? So scared that if you _love_ him, he'll leave you?"

Her eyes darkened. He'd hit a nerve.

He took a step forward. "_I'm scared to death of that too, Jane!" _he yelled. "I'm scared of loving people and losing people and I'm absolutely _terrified_ of how much _I love Blaine_! But maybe if you let yourself love him, you could be a whole lot happier!"

Another step.

"Instead, you let hatred rule your life! You may have a disability, and _sure_ it stops you from doing things, I've never disputed that!"

Another step.

"But the one thing it should _absolutely not stop you from doing _is _loving people_!"

Another step.

"You may have a disability, but that doesn't stop you from being a _bully_!" He threw the word in her face. "You cut Blaine down, and it hurts him _every time you do it _but he still loves you because _that's what family does_."

He was a foot from her now, almost yelling in her face. "I might be an abomination or a sin in your eyes, but the disgusting thing here is _you_."

He was at least careful enough, in his rage, not to brush against her as he moved past her into the house, slamming the screen door behind him.

If he'd stayed longer, he might have seen her face crumple.

**A/N: I have ideas for this story that span wayyyy too far into the future. Gah. My thoughts are everywhere. Which is funny, because in my last Klaine story, this chapter was the epilogue, tying all the loose ends together.**

**SO MUCH LEFT TO WRITE OF THIS STORY.**

**No Glee this week :( I'm suffering from withdrawal. **


	15. Jane's Confessions

**A/N: MAAAAAAAAH I CAN'T TAKE ALL THESE _KLAINE_ SPOILERS.**

**I swear I just heard someone down the hall say "time for pie" and I'm debating whether it's worth investigating. Methinks so. My roomie certainly does; she nearly bowled me over in her rush to get out of the room. **

**I guess it depends on the kind of pie.**

**AND I AM SO DAMN SORRY IF THE NAME "SEAN" POPS UP IN THIS STORY, BECAUSE IT'S HAPPENED TWICE NOW. I don't even understand. I don't _know_ anyone named Sean. Wtf is this even.**

**Okay, anyway. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

The thunder and lightning were already clearing away, leaving only soft rainfall, by the time Kurt found Blaine. He was in the basement, shoving towels into the dryer.

For some reason, Kurt was comforted by the state of the Andersons' basement. He'd expected something elaborate, or _finished_, at least, but it wasn't. The cement walls were slightly damp, the air carried a musty smell, and little particles of dust danced in the light filtering through the small windows set high on the wall. It was just a basement, much like the one at his new home.

"Can I just say something?" Kurt asked softly. Blaine froze in the act of shutting the dryer.

Kurt twisted his fingers together. "Why can't you take your own advice and have a little courage?"

He knew it would hurt Blaine. He knew even before he saw the wounded look in Blaine's eyes when he turned around.

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, holding onto the dryer with one hand.

Kurt reached a hand out to him. "You let Jane walk all over you. You _let_ her control you. You let her have power over you."

As Blaine released the dryer and took a step towards him, Kurt realized with a jolt that the other boy's eyes were red-rimmed. He'd been crying.

Guilt washed through him as he held out his arms wordlessly. Blaine all but fell into them, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

"I might have yelled at Jane," Kurt admitted, his voice muffled as he pressed his fingers to the nape of Blaine's neck.

"What?"

"I sort of snapped after you left," Kurt said. "I lost my temper."

"What did you say?" Blaine asked, in a small voice.

Kurt felt his ears burn, remembering his words to Jane. _"I love him!"_

"I accused her of being a bully because she's afraid of you. Afraid to love you, more accurately."

_"What are you so scared of?"_

His words came back to him, and suddenly, he realized where they were from. A memory trickled into his mind, a memory he'd tried time and time again to block out. A nearly-empty locker room, a rush of anger, his voice screaming, _"you're nothing but a scared little boy-"_

Unwittingly, he'd channeled the same argument when dealing with the second bully in his life.

"I doubt that will make a difference," Blaine whispered, and Kurt hated the defeat in his voice. "But thank you for trying."

Kurt's arm gripped Blaine's shoulder a little more tightly. "I don't know about that. I don't think anyone's ever stood up to her like that before."

"I appreciate it," Blaine said, pulling back from Kurt. "But can we just- forget about it, for now? Enjoy the rest of our Sunday together?"

He was looking at Kurt so hopefully that Kurt forced the approximation of a smile, and said, "Sure. What did you have in mind?"

They took their ruined picnic with them up to Blaine's room, rolling up his thick white carpet and spreading a blanket out over the hardwood floor.

Jane wasn't brought up again between them. When their indoor picnic was finished, Blaine dug through the various cabinets around the flat screen until he found two Wii controllers, and promptly challenged Kurt to a race.

Kurt was _unfairly_ good at Mario kart.

They called it quits sometime around midnight, when it became clear that there was no way Blaine was _ever_ going to beat Kurt, and he should just stop trying.

Blaine fell asleep almost immediately, his fingertips touching Kurt's- just the smallest touch, but enough to send him off to sleep peacefully. Kurt stayed awake a while longer, just watching the way the worry lines that were starting to carve themselves into Blaine's forehead relaxed, watching the way Blaine's mouth curved a little at the corners, even in sleep.

He closed his eyes, a smile touching his own lips, and drifted into sleep.

xxxxx

Kurt spent Sunday morning curled up like a cat against one of Blaine's pillows, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen, researching and typing frantically. Jeff had emailed him all in a tizzy because their English teacher had, for unknown reasons, added another two pages to their length requirement for their Beowulf essay.

Blaine was fidgety. He was used to Kurt's attention being trained on him when they were together, and he rather disliked this new development. He wished he could have a word with Kurt's English teacher.

After about half an hour of tapping his fingers against his leg, humming to himself, and attempting to read an excruciatingly boring book, he announced that he was going to go visit Layne and Toby.

Kurt looked up, relief evident on his face. He must have realized this, because he quickly explained that it wasn't as if he didn't enjoy Blaine's company, he just really needed peace and quiet. And as much as he loved to listen to Blaine sing various Rolling Stones songs, it didn't exactly help with the whole "quiet" part of the equation.

Toby wasn't home, but Layne answered the door with baby Blaine propped up in her arms. Her face broke into a smile when she saw him. "Blaine! Where's Kurt?"

"Surprise homework," Blaine explained. "You're not busy, are you?"

"For you? Never." She stepped aside and let him into the house, closing the door behind him. "How is it with Kurt, anyway?"

"He yelled at Jane."

Layne's eyes widened. "In front of you?"

"No. He-" Blaine stopped, then sighed and gestured to the couch. "I guess I owe you the entire story."

Layne, who always seemed to know exactly what Blaine wanted and needed, settled baby Blaine into Blaine's arms. Holding the baby had an immediate calming effect; it was as if all the stress had melted away from him.

She settled herself on the couch across from his arm chair, and waved a hand at him. "Begin."

He explained all he could, all that Kurt had told him, while Blaine Jr. gazed up at him with a politely befuddled expression on his face.

At the end, Layne leaned back, letting out a long breath. "Wow. I knew I liked him for a reason. He's fierce."

"Do you think it'll change anything?"

Layne could hear the hope in Blaine's voice, the desperate tone that wanted something, _anything_, to clutch onto.

"Nobody's ever said anything like that to her," Layne said, carefully. "Something like that can't just bounce off her. It had to sting, at least a little bit."

Blaine took a deep breath. "I think he almost kissed me," he admitted in a whisper. "When we were dancing."

Layne's jaw dropped. "_What?_"

"I can't be sure," Blaine said quickly. "But he was so close- and then Jane came and ruined everything."

"Blaine, that's _amazing_!" Layne squealed, clapping her hands over her mouth, and Blaine was uncomfortably reminded of the ten-year-old girl who'd accosted him backstage after Sectionals and thrown herself into his arms. "I can't believe- oh my god!"

"I can't be sure," Blaine repeated, trying to tamp down that irritating swell of happiness that was trying to rise up his throat.

"It _would_ make sense, though," Layne mused. "That would explain his anger at Jane. I mean, you did say that the last time they interacted, she was incredibly rude and he didn't seem fazed by it. Then she doesn't even say anything to him and he snaps after you leave? Something seems suspicious here to me." She rubbed her nose, a gesture Blaine had seen her do a thousand times before, one that meant she was thinking hard about something.

"You're getting my hopes up," Blaine scolded.

"You have _reason_ to hope," Layne said.

xxxxx

The rain began pouring down again almost immediately after Blaine left- some part of Kurt's mind wondered just how much water the sky could possibly hold. He set his itunes to his rainy day playlist (mostly sad piano music that accompanied the sound of rain beautifully), and tried hard to focus on his essay.

He typed out another sentence, then deleted it, then slammed his laptop shut with a sigh. There was no way he could possibly work on his essay, not with all the thoughts whirling around and around his head.

He stretched his limbs out lazily, reaching with his toes to the end of the bed, then rolled over onto his side to stare out the picture window.

A light cough came from the general direction of the doorway.

Kurt rolled back over.

Jane stood there, her face vulnerable, lost-looking. She was prettier than Kurt had ever seen her, without the ice-queen expression on her face.

"May I come in?" she asked politely, her airy voice hesitant.

"By all means," Kurt said.

She crossed the threshold, and then stopped just inside the room, rocking a little on her feet. A ridiculous part of Kurt's mind just wanted to gather her up and hold her like a little china doll.

"He doesn't know, does he?" Jane asked.

Kurt blinked. "Who doesn't know what?"

"Blaine. He doesn't know that you're in love with him, does he?" she asked. At the frozen expression on Kurt's face, she added, "I won't tell him, you know. I don't talk to him."

"But you'll talk to me," Kurt pointed out, raising one of his eyebrows. "Why is that, do you think?"

"You are different than I previously thought," Jane said, carefully settling herself onto the floor. "When I saw you, I expected a stereotype. Limp-wristed, flamboyant, weak. But you aren't. _You're_ the strong one between you and Blaine. You take care of him. I judged you incorrectly."

"Tell me something, Jane," Kurt said, pushing himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. "Are you really homophobic, or can you just not stand the fact that _Blaine_ is gay?"

"Blaine," Jane admitted, quietly.

Kurt sat on his hands. "And why is that?"

"I don't know," Jane whispered. "He used to be my best friend. He protected me. He was normal, and he made me feel like _I _could be normal." She shook her head. "But then he wasn't normal. He was like me, except unlike me, he still _looked_ normal. I don't have 'osteogenesis imperfecta' tattooed across my forehead, but I might as well, with the way I look. He can walk around and people still think he's absolutely ordinary. He gets to _look_ absolutely ordinary, while I get to look like this." She gestured to her tiny body. "But we're both freaks on the inside."

She laughed bitterly, her mouth twisting. "And it was easy, making him feel bad about it. Making him hurt. It made me feel powerful. It made _me_ feel less weak. And it made me feel good, to see how he'd panic when I broke something, that he still loved me and cared about me even if he thought I didn't love him or care about him anymore."

Kurt climbed off the bed, standing up to walk to Jane. He curled up on the carpet beside her, folding his legs primly, clasping his hands around his knee. Her eyes flickered to him quickly, then away as she continued talking.

"Then his peers at school found out. And it wasn't safe there for him anymore, so Mom and Dad used our family name and money to get Blaine into Dalton." Her tiny fingers flexed lightly. "And suddenly, he was so _happy_. He would come home on holidays with stories about his new best friends, Wes and David, his _straight_ best friends who still loved him for exactly who and what he was. And then he brought them _with_ him, and they were exactly how he described them- perfect and polite and outgoing. It was too easy for me to be rude."

She looked to Kurt desperately, and for the first time he noticed that the whites of her eyes were discolored, a cloudy almost-blue. "It wasn't _fair_. He got _friends_ and popularity, everyone at Dalton liked him and he was a star in the Warblers, landing almost all the solos. But he never talked about _boyfriends _or _crushes_, only ever friends, and I thought that maybe there was a chance he was the only one at Dalton who was gay, or maybe just that nobody wanted him, and I held onto that thought."

She laughed quietly to herself. "And then, this last Christmas, he came home and all he could talk about… was you. He was _glowing_. He was happier than I'd ever seen him. Even when I was at my worst, it didn't affect him. He showed us a picture of you and Mom and Layne absolutely _fawned_ over it and he was just _so damn happy_."

A tear trickled from her eye and Kurt reached out with one hand to gently cover hers.

She looked down at it in surprise, then back up at him. He offered her a soft smile, and nodded for her to keep going.

"He loves you, you know," Jane said. "I see the way he looks at you, like you're everything. He looks so scared sometimes, like he doesn't know what to do. He talks to you differently than he talks to anyone else. And I'm never going to have that."

Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat. "You're not going to lose him, you know. If he still loves you now, after everything- he always will. You're his twin sister."

She nodded, staring at her lap.

He pulled his hand back awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

"D'you-" Her high voice cracked. "Do you think you could help me with my Physics homework? It's the one subject I just can't seem to get a grasp on and Mom's no use at all in explaining it."

"I'd love to," Kurt said, and meant it.

xxxxx

Layne looked over when the credits started rolling, and smiled to herself. Blaine was stretched out on the couch, baby Blaine still tucked safely in his arms, both of them fast asleep.

She moved out of the room quietly, trying not to wake either of her boys, to put the tea kettle on. While it was heating up, she sat down at the kitchen table, her mind buzzing with various thoughts.

She couldn't pretend to know Kurt well enough to understand what was going through his head. But from what she _did_ know, the boy was an oxymoron within himself. He was a fashionista and yet he worked with his father as a mechanic. His voice was high, and yet somehow masculine. He seemed so confident and sure of himself, and yet all of that seemed to dissolve when he looked at Blaine with that expression on his face like he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.

And he'd called out Jane on all her bullshit.

He truly was a complicated person.

The kettle began to whistle softly, and she stood up to switch off the stove. She poured herself a mug of tea, cupping her hands around the warm mug, twirling the string of the tea bag around the rim absent-mindedly.

She wouldn't-couldn't- interfere. She had to let them go to each other. They were both naïve, inexperienced, unsure- they had to find each other and help each other muddle through this together.

She just hoped the two of them would be able to open their eyes and see what every other person around them saw.

She knew Blaine was lonely. She'd known for a long time, but it hit her the hardest at her wedding. She'd been dancing around the floor with Toby, laughing, when she'd spotted Blaine. He'd been sitting alone at their table, back ramrod straight, his mouth fixed in a polite smile, but his eyes were longing.

She realized then how much _easier_ she had it than him. She always would have it easier. She could flirt with a guy without being worried about her own _safety_. She could dance with the man she loved without public ridicule or disapproval. She could get _married_ without any trouble besides the regular concerns of what flowers to buy and where to have the reception.

He would never have it that easy, and that made her heart hurt.

But then he met Kurt, and she'd been so ecstatic that he'd finally have _someone_ to love and someone he could struggle through life together with.

But things were always so much more complicated than they appeared.

Then again, Kurt and Blaine were both much stronger than they appeared.

There was a shuffling sound from the living room, and a little baby yawn as the two Blaines woke up.

She hastened to the stove to pour another cup of tea for Blaine, who was sure to want one, then set both onto a tray and headed back to the living room.

Blaine was sitting propped up on the couch, gazing fondly down at his nephew. Layne paused in the doorway, watching with a smile on her face as he brushed a knuckle across the baby's cheek.

"Insomnia's getting better, then?" She asked, and Blaine looked up at her with a grin.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but only if I have someone sleeping with me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Might I ask who that person normally is?"

"Kurt," Blaine admitted, his ears a fetching shade of red.

"I would ask if you two get any actual sleeping done, but knowing you, you actually do," Layne sighed, setting down the tray on the coffee table. "How disappointing."

"Layne," Blaine choked, but he was laughing.

"Just say-ing," Layne sang, taking a sip of her tea. "How much longer are you here for?"

"Half of tomorrow," Blaine said. "Then our flight leaves for Westerville."

"Could I drive you and Kurt to the airport?" Layne asked, reaching over to take the baby from Blaine. "I'd kind of like to see you off."

"That would be wonderful," Blaine said. His face twisted. "I feel a little awful leaving him at home with Jane. She must be furious at him right now. At both of us."

"Your room has a lock, doesn't it?" Layne asked with a playful grin. Blaine only offered her half a smile. She sighed. "Come on, Blaine, give Kurt a little more credit. He's tough. He can handle Jane."

"Apparently," Blaine murmured, and drained his tea mug. He stood up. "I'd better be heading back, I'm sorry. I'm sure Kurt's done his essay by now."

She mock-saluted him just as Blaine Jr. started crying.

"Oh, shit," she swore, then clapped a hand over her mouth and looked guilty. "Bad Layne." She looked up at Blaine. "Do you think you could show yourself to the door? I've got to handle this guy."

"Not a problem." He leaned over to kiss her cheek, then let himself out the front door.

He might have ignored the speed limit a tiny bit as he drove home. After a particularly strange and somewhat disturbing dream about Jane drowning Kurt in the bathtub, Blaine's brain was full of unwanted images of all the ways Kurt could possibly be murdered by Blaine's sister in their large winter home.

Which is why he was surprised, to say the least, when he opened the door that led from the garage into the house, to find Jane sitting on her cushion in the corner of the kitchen, scribbling something onto a piece of paper, and Kurt sitting next to her with his laptop, typing frantically.

Neither of them appeared to notice him as Kurt turned from the computer, craning his neck to see what Jane had written.

"No, see, you're using the wrong formula again. You have to determine velocity before you can move on, because you can't determine the centripetal force without velocity. Try-"

Blaine cleared his throat. Both of them looked up.

"Oh, I didn't even realize you were home," Kurt said apologetically, setting down his laptop and standing up. "Lost track of time, I guess. I'm nearly finished my essay."

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Blaine asked, glancing over Kurt's shoulder at Jane, who was now scribbling even more intently, her tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth.

"Sure." Kurt followed Blaine into the dining room, just off the kitchen.

Blaine turned to face him. "What's going on?"

"You were right about her being terrible at Physics," Kurt said, shaking his head. "It's taken her about an hour to finish even half of that worksheet."

"She's not mad at you?" Blaine felt like he was somehow missing something.

"We had a very… enlightening chat," Kurt explained, beaming at Blaine. "I can't really tell you all of it, because I think you should talk to Jane."

"I don't know if I _want_ to talk to Jane, Kurt," Blaine hissed.

That slid the smile right off Kurt's face. "What?"

"So you talked to her and now she's everybody's friend, right?" Blaine said. "I'm sorry, but you don't really know her like I do. She's _manipulative, _Kurt. She uses people to get what she wants. She uses my parents all the time, and she uses her disability to garner sympathy. And she pretends to hate the sympathy, but she basks in it." He shook his head. "I appreciate you yelling at her, and maybe that's gotten her on the right track. But I can't believe that she would just forget all of her hatred for me with one conversation with you. _Especially_ with you."

"_'Especially with me'_?" Kurt repeated, his voice frosty. "And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean," Blaine said, reaching out to touch Kurt's arm. "Why would she suddenly decide to forgive me because I bring another gay boy home? You'd think she would hate me even more. It doesn't make any sense."

"You could give her the benefit of the doubt."

Blaine's gaze turned cold, too. "Oh, all right. Imagine someone like… Karofsky was your _brother_. Maybe he wasn't violent with you, and he didn't shove you into things, but the looks he gave you and the things he muttered under his breath were still enough to scare you, to make you ashamed of yourself. Now imagine that, after that talk with Karofsky we had so many months ago, he suddenly became nice. He wanted to apologize to you, and be friendly with you. Wouldn't you be even the _slightest_ bit suspicious about his motives? Would _you_ decide to trust him again right away?"

Kurt was silent for a moment. "I see your point," he finally said.

"Thank you." A little of the ice in Blaine's voice melted. "I appreciate your efforts with my sister, but I'm just not ready to forgive her yet."

"I understand." Unexpectedly, Kurt pulled him forward into a hug, then released him, keeping only his hand. "It was a little idealistic of me to expect you to."

They returned to the kitchen together, Kurt's hand gripping Blaine's tightly.

"Blaine-" Jane said, starting to get up, but Kurt shook his head slightly at her. She sat back down, looking confused.

"I'm really tired," Blaine said, not looking at her. "I'm going to go to bed."

He let go of Kurt's hand and disappeared up the stairs.

"Finish that worksheet?" Kurt asked, attempting a smile.

"Yes. Kurt, what-"

"Not now, Jane," Kurt said quietly, then followed Blaine's path to his room.

Blaine was already in his bathroom, washing his face. He spotted Kurt in the mirror and offered a small smile, rubbing moisturizing cream into his skin. "Early morning tomorrow," he explained at Kurt's questioning look. "I thought we could just eat dinner up here."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And dinner is...?"

"I won't deny that I ordered pizza," Blaine said, flipping the lid back onto the moisturizer. "But I made it healthy and thin-crust and in the special instructions I told them to use a towel and squeeze any grease out of that pizza, so I hope it meets your standards."

Kurt had to laugh at that, shaking his head. "You know me far too well."

"That isn't true at all," Blaine said flippantly, ruffling his hair as he strode past (Kurt swatted at his hand, only really half-annoyed). "You manage to surprise me on a regular basis."

They weren't talking any more about Jane, and Blaine made an almost pointed show of locking his bedroom door to show that he wasn't about to invite her into their small pizza party, and Kurt was more okay with that than he would have been a half hour ago, because now he was beginning to really _see _Blaine's side of things.

Kurt hated the smug expression on Blaine's face when Blaine was right- the pizza was delicious and surprisingly grease-free. Blaine had sent down a sort of pulley contraption from his window to the front porch to fetch the pizza from the very surprised delivery man (1), and that memory kept Kurt giggling long after the last of the pizza was gone.

So they were getting better. Maybe they didn't understand each other completely yet, maybe they weren't on the same page all the time, but they were getting there.

**A/N: That ending, I don't know. **

**(1) And no, I haven't done that, so stop asking (_seriously guys I've never done that I don't know what you're talking about)_. **


	16. Preparations

**A/N: I'm calling a kiss in Original Songs. It's going to happen. And if it doesn't? Oh well. But IF IT DOES- haha, I'll be right.**

**I also call the Klaine buildup leading to the two of them singing "Falling in love in a Coffee Shop" by Landon Pigg.**

**I'm hoping to get my Regionals chapter out before the Regionals _episode_. So it won't seem like I ripped anything off if they somehow manage to coincide (the songs won't- I've already picked out the songs the Warblers are singing. I think I'm just going to go ahead and have New Directions do their Original Songs thing). **

**I have never in my life shipped a couple as hard as I ship Klaine. Not even RemusxSirius, and I ship them pretty hard. **

**ALSO I'VE BEEN LISTENING TO "ANIMAL" ON REPEAT CUZ I AM SO EXCITED FOR TUESDAY Y'ALL  
**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. **

Morning was absolutely hectic. Blaine hadn't realized the sheer _volume_ of all of their combined clothing and toiletries. Somehow, they'd spread themselves all across the house. A majority of their morning was spent running around the various rooms collecting articles of clothing.

"How did this even get in here?" Kurt called from the library, folding a sweater that had been lying across the back of a couch. "I didn't even go in this room!"

Blaine was sitting cross-legged on Kurt's suitcase to help him zip it up when Layne knocked on his bedroom door. "You two just about ready to head out?"

"I can't zip up my damn suitcase," Kurt called back, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

Layne pushed the door open and eyed the suitcase. "How many clothes did you pack? Your whole wardrobe?"

"Please," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "If this was my whole wardrobe it would have taken an entire plane to bring it here."

Layne laughed. "Do you need me to sit on it, too?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "Go sit next to Blaine."

She did as instructed, and with some difficulty, Kurt zipped the suitcase.

"Where are Toby and baby Blaine?" Blaine asked, getting off the suitcase and grabbing the handles before Kurt could.

"Downstairs, visiting Mom and Dad," Layne said, sliding off too and brushing her hair back with one hand.

Blaine headed out of the room with Kurt's suitcase, Kurt's protests that _he could carry it himself, thank you_ falling upon deaf ears.

Wendy wrapped her arms around Kurt. "It was so wonderful to meet you. You are welcome to visit any time you like."

"Thank you for having me," Kurt replied cordially, patting her back gently before stepping out of the embrace.

Peter offered him a hand. "It was a pleasure."

"Likewise," Kurt said with a slight smile, shaking the hand firmly.

Jane was sitting in the corner, twisting what looked like a piece of orange thread around her wrist, completely silent.

"We'd better head out," Layne said, "or these two will miss their plane."

Jane's head snapped up, her eyes meeting Kurt's. He offered her a little smile.

"Goodbye, Kurt. Goodbye, Blaine," she said, softly.

Both Wendy's and Peter's heads whipped around in an almost comical way, and Kurt was reminded that neither of them actually knew about the tentative truce between him and Jane.

"Goodbye, Jane," he said, his smile broadening. He snuck a glance at Blaine, who was staring at the ground.

There was an awkward, tense moment until Layne clapped her hands, breaking the silence. "All right, all set to go?"

Kurt followed the two Anderson siblings out the door, sliding into the back seat of Layne's Imprezza. Blaine slid in next to him, nudging him slightly with a little grin. On Kurt's other side, Layne was reaching in to buckle baby Blaine into his carseat.

Toby buckled into the passenger's side as Layne turned on the ignition and rolled down the window. "See you next week!" she called to her parents, who were standing on the front porch. They waved and called something back as Layne rolled the window back up.

"They said to have a safe flight," Layne reported, turning out of the driveway.

Kurt turned his head to see Blaine Jr. looking back at him with an expression of frank inquiry, as if he was trying to puzzle out what, exactly, Kurt was. The adult-like expression was so out of place on the baby's face that Kurt couldn't help bursting into a fit of giggles. Blaine pressed his lips together, but couldn't hold in his own laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" Kurt demanded, trying to smother his own hysteria by clapping his hands over his mouth.

"You," Blaine said, and the two collapsed in giggles again, leaning against each other.

Layne exchanged a grin with her husband in the front seat.

The airport was surprisingly busy for a non-holiday- Kurt almost got bowled over by a man on a cellphone and accidentally stole a small child from his mother (the boy had followed him, entranced by the sparkles on his scarf).

In time, though, they got themselves to the gate for the flight headed to Westerville, and Kurt and Toby immediately fell into fussing over the carry-ons, to give Blaine and Layne and the baby a moment to say goodbye to each other.

"Come visit us anytime, I mean it," Layne said, shifting Blaine Jr. in her arms. "If you want to stay with us instead of with Mom and Dad in Columbus this summer, just say the words. We'd love to have you stay here with us."

"Columbus is a lot closer to Lima than the Keys are," Blaine said, a little apologetically. His eyes flickered to Kurt.

"Ah." Layne smiled knowingly. "Of course."

Blaine narrowed his eyes at her. "Stop it."

"I didn't say anything," she said innocently. "Nothing at all. Nor did I imply anything. Nothing was implied."

"I hate you," Blaine said, but leaned over to kiss her cheek and stroke a hand over baby Blaine's blankets.

"Have fun at Dalton, prep school boy," Toby said, handing Blaine his carry-on. "But not too much fun, if you know what I mean." He winked.

"I don't," Blaine deadpanned.

Kurt lifted his own carry-on over his shoulder, and linked his arm with Blaine's. "Ready to head back to reality?"

"School," Blaine groaned, waving to Layne and Toby and little Blaine over his shoulder. "I'll never be prepared for that."

Kurt laughed. "Is anyone?"

The flight touched down in Ohio at 4:16, only a few minutes off-schedule. Blaine's car was untouched in the same place he had parked it in, and they both wrinkled their noses to see the box of donuts he'd left on the backseat.

"Maybe they're still good," Blaine said dubiously, eying the box.

"If you open that box and attempt to eat even _one_ of those donuts, I am not talking to you for a week," Kurt said severely.

Blaine clutched his chest. "That hurts."

"Offer them to Wes and David," Kurt suggested, a rather evil smirk covering his face.

Blaine pressed his lips together, the way he always did when he was trying not to laugh, and speed-dialed David.

"Are you home?" David cried immediately after picking up.

"We're at St. Ann's airport," Blaine said back, climbing into the driver's seat. "We'll be at Dalton in about fifteen minutes."

"Tell them I'm expecting a full welcoming committee," Kurt said, settling comfortably into his seat. "Marching band and everything."

Blaine laughed, and repeated the message to David.

"I don't know about that," David said doubtfully, "but Wes and I did throw something together, on behalf of your homecoming."

"Oh god," Blaine groaned, pressing the 'end call' button. He glanced over at Kurt. "Be prepared to get your wish. You've woken a sleeping giant. I just hope you understand the implications of what you've done."

Kurt clapped his hands enthusiastically.

Both of them were actually surprised when they pulled into the Junior parking lot and it was devoid of people.

"I really was expecting a welcoming committee," Kurt admitted as they got out of Blaine's car. "Or, you know, _something_."

Blaine held up a hand. "Do you hear that?"

Kurt stopped for a moment, cocking his head. Faintly, strands of music reached his ears. "... Yes."

"Come on." Blaine reached for his hand, dragging him across the lot. As soon as they reached the far end of the pavement, and rounded the corner of the first dormitory building, the source of the music became immediately clear.

All the Warblers stood side by side in a line, harmonizing with massive grins on their faces. Jeff, who was singing lead, pointed to Kurt and Blaine, laughing.

_Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree_

_ it's been three long years_

_ do you still want me?_

_ If I don't see a ribbon round the old oak tree_

_ I'll stay on the bus, forget about us_

_ put the blame on me_

_ If I don't see a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree..._

Jeff bowed as he finished the chorus, and Blaine joined in with Kurt's applause, both of them laughing.

"Does this fulfill your need for a welcome home committee?" Wes asked.

"Strange choice of song, considering as it's about a man coming home from prison," Kurt teased, "but better than my expectations."

Jeff laughed, clapping him on the back. "Did you finish your English paper?"

Kurt's eyes rolled upwards. "Guh, don't remind me. I spent _all_ of Sunday trying to figure out how to add two pages to my perfectly developed essay. I had the whole thing plotted out to be seven pages, not nine. I think my brain has melted."

"There was more of a point to this welcoming committee than just... well, welcoming," Wes said, slipping his serious face on. "We need to discuss our Regionals setlist _immediately_. Blaine, Kurt, while you two were gone, we found a catchy song-"

"Top forty?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, actually," David said with an easy smile, interrupting Wes, who had been about to retort. "Not an extraordinarily well-known group. And it works well with Acapella, we've determined. And it's well-suited for Blaine's voice."

Both boys looked at each other, intrigued.

"Come on," Wes said, after a moment. "We'll give you the sheet music and you can try it out. Kurt, you're-"

"A ukulele?" Kurt asked dryly, repressing a sigh. Blaine, who could always tell what Kurt wasn't saying, offered him an apologetic sort of wince.

David gave him a thumbs-up as confirmation.

Wes and Blaine fell into a deep, intense conversation as they made their way back to the choir room, discussing which songs in their repertoire would work best with the various solos they expected to give.

David fell into step next to Kurt. "How was Florida?"

Kurt's lips twitched. "Sunny," he said.

David frowned.

"Really nice," Kurt relented. "I swam in the ocean for the first time, I met Blaine's nephew, and I yelled at Jane."

"Skipping over the first two, I'm sorry, _what_?" David asked, as if unable to believe his ears. "Someone finally bitched out Jane?"

"Seriously, _nobody's_ ever done that?" Kurt asked, throwing his hands up a little.

"You have to tell me the whole story," David insisted. "Now."

By the time Kurt finished filling him in, they'd reached the doors to the choir room. Wes opened them and gestured them all inside.

"We'll discuss this later," David whispered, "but seriously, man. You are ace." The two of them touched knuckles, grinning, before scurrying off to their respective seats as Wes banged his gavel to start the meeting.

xxxxx

Blaine opened the door to Kurt's room at exactly 7 PM four days later, fully expecting him to be putting his books back into his shoulder bag, fully dressed and ready for dinner, all of his homework complete.

Instead, Kurt was slumped across his desk, his cheek pressed against his French textbook, fast asleep. It was really unfair how adorable he managed to look.

Blaine could have kicked himself for not noticing the circles under Kurt's eyes or the way his mouth was open in an almost-constant yawn during Warblers' meetings. It should have been obvious the boy was exhausted- not only was school picking up, but Wes was getting more and more demanding with their rehearsal schedule as Regionals approached.

He looked so peaceful that Blaine hated to move him, but he also looked like he would have a painful back cramp and an ink-stained face if he stayed where he currently was. Sighing, Blaine shook his shoulder gently.

Kurt jolted awake, his eyes wide. "Oh no, how long did I sleep?" He asked, looking around his paper-covered desk in dismay. "I needed to finish this French response before dinner!"

"What you _need_ is sleep," Blaine said gently, but firmly.

"We have rehearsal tonight, I have to finish this before that," Kurt argued, rubbing his eyes furiously.

"I'll tell Wes you're sick."

"I'm not sick." The words were almost slurred together by Kurt's sleep-addled mouth.

"You're bordering on it," Blaine said, helping him out of his desk chair and into his bed. "Get some sleep, and text me when you wake up. I'll bring you some dinner."

Kurt apparently lacked the strength to argue any further. "Okay," he muttered, toeing off his shoes and snuggling into his covers. He closed his eyes.

Blaine brushed some hair off his forehead, then turned to walk away. Unexpectedly, Kurt caught his wrist.

"Tell Wes," he murmured, his eyes still closed, "that I don' wanna give up my chance at a solo for this."

Blaine laughed softly, peeling Kurt's fingers off his wrist gently, tucking his arm back against his side. "I'll tell him," he promised.

He cast one look back at the already-sleeping boy before closing the door as gently as he could behind him.

Wes arrived to the meeting at exactly eight o'clock on the dot, a sheaf of papers tucked under his arm, gavel in hand. He tapped it imperiously upon the table a few times, then looked around. "Where is Kurt?"

"He was dead on his feet," Blaine explained, standing up. "I told him I'd let you know he wouldn't be able to make it. He was trying to make himself come to rehearsal, but I told him he needed his rest."

Wes nodded thoughtfully. "Missing one rehearsal won't hurt him, and he needs to keep his health. We'll continue as planned." He moved to tap the gavel against the desk again, then noticed Blaine still standing. "Was there something else, Blaine?"

"The song we rehearsed on Monday, while great, isn't exactly right for Acapella," Blaine began, folding his hands in front of him. "So, I did a little more research on the group, and found a song that's much more fitting to our style, still by the same artists."

Wes raised an eyebrow. "And you'd like to perform this number at Regionals?"

Blaine nodded. "With all due respect, esteemed council, I'd like you to just try the song before making any decisions. I think it's ideal for our group."

Wes furrowed his brow, thinking about it. "Have you figured out an arrangement for it?"

"Yes," Blaine said, reaching for one of the shelves on the bookcase. "I dropped them off earlier, before I went to find Kurt." He passed the papers to Wes.

Wes looked over it, his eyebrows moving further and further up his forehead. "You're correct in this being more our style, but..." he looked up. "We had this written as a solo for you. You've arranged this as a duet."

"I know," Blaine said.

xxxxx

"So you introduced a new song? A week before Regionals?" Kurt asked, putting down his fork to look at Blaine. "And Wes actually went for it?"

"They gave it a shot," Blaine said, "and they actually ended up really liking it, just as I thought they would."

"And it's perfect for your voice, so there's an added bonus." Kurt took a sip of water, arching an eyebrow over his glass.

"Very true," Blaine agreed, poking at his salad.

"And let me guess, I'm still a ukulele?" Kurt asked, setting his water glass back down and reaching for his fork again.

"Actually." Blaine folded his hands. "I'm not supposed to do this until we are all in a formal gathering, so act surprised when Wes tells you, but- we are prepared to offer you a large part in this song."

"But... it's your song," Kurt said, confused.

"It's a duet, actually," Blaine offered with a smile.

Kurt's eyes widened, and one hand flew up to his mouth. "Wait, seriously? I get to do a duet? With you? At Regionals?"

"Only if you want to," Blaine assured him.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me? Of course I do!" Kurt jumped up, almost knocking over his plate to hug Blaine. "I've _never_ ever had a solo in a competition before! This is amazing! I can't believe the council actually decided to let me!"

Laughing, Blaine returned the hug. "Well, they decided your voice was right for the song, and I mentioned that I already knew that we sound good together." He bumped his shoulder against Kurt's. "So they decided you were the best candidate."

Kurt blushed a little. "And- it's confirmed? I'm definitely doing it?"

"Only if you accept." Blaine wound an arm around Kurt's shoulders. "Make sure you really want to."

"I want-" Kurt started, but Blaine held up a finger.

"First, make sure you have the _time_. You're under a lot of stress right now, and having a large part in a song is added pressure. Don't feel obligated to take it simply because we'd like you to. There will be other solos for you, I'm sure of it. Secondly, make sure you'd be okay with leading a song in a competition against your old Glee Club."

Kurt nodded slowly, biting his lip. He looked at Blaine. "Do you want me to think about it more or tell you right now what my answer is? Because I doubt that it's going to change, no matter how much I think about it."

"Just think about it for a little longer, okay?" Blaine asked, patting his hand. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes, but nodded in agreement.

"So how did you sleep?" Blaine asked, changing the subject. "I was surprised to get your text so early."

"I had the _weirdest_ dreams," Kurt said. "It happens every time I forgo sleep for too long. They usually star someone random."

"Such as?"

"The barista at the Lima Bean, this time," Kurt said, plucking at his sheet. "I spent so long when I woke up trying to place where I'd seen her before."

"The barista," Blaine repeated.

"There may also have been jelly beans somewhere in the dream, as well as motivational cat posters."

"What- you know what? Nevermind. I'm not sure I even want to know," Blaine said, holding up his hands.

Kurt laughed, pushing his plate to the side and curling up against Blaine, laying his head on his shoulder. "She kept on pointing to the cat posters and telling me to 'hang in there'."

"It's a really good thing you're telling _me_ this and not Jeff," Blaine said, one hand curling around Kurt's waist (_and he did not tug Kurt in closer, thank you very much_). "He'd be psycho-analyzing you right now, trying to find some deeper meaning behind the jelly beans and motivational posters and Lima Bean barista."

"There isn't one," Kurt said lazily, nuzzling his face into Blaine's neck and yawning, his breath hot against Blaine's skin.

"And you're an expert in dream psychology, are you?" Blaine asked, and if his voice came out sounding a little breathless, Kurt didn't seem to notice.

"Yes," Kurt said decisively. "I know all your dreams, Blaine Anderson, and I know what they mean." He sounded slightly punch-drunk.

_I sure as hell hope not,_ Blaine thought.

xxxxx

Saturday, unfortunately, was not the welcome break either of them had expected it to be. Wes appeared to have completely lost his mind. There was a Warblers meeting every day, and an extra-long one on Saturdays. Wes was in a frenzy about beating the other two clubs who were pitted against them, and the other Warblers besides Kurt and Blaine seemed to have an almost similar mentality.

They rehearsed their songs until they were sick of them, then rehearsed some more. Blaine and Kurt rehearsed their duet countless times both inside and outside practice until they could have sung it in their sleep, but Blaine insisted they do no choreographing for it.

"Everyone else will be dancing in the background," he said, "but we don't want to look forced. Just do what feels natural and it will look a lot better."

"So we're just going to wing it?" Kurt asked. It sounded more New Directions-esque than Warblers-esque to him.

"Yes. The vocals need to be perfect, but our dancing and interactions need to be real." Blaine checked his watch. "Come on, we have another Warblers practice."

Kurt groaned, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. "There's only so much time I can spend pretending to be a guitar before my mouth falls asleep."

"Speak for yourself, the word 'perfect' is starting to sound weird on my lips, and after a while I start wondering if I'm pronouncing it wrong," Blaine said, holding the door open for him.

"At least there's only another week, and it's over," Kurt sighed as they neared the door to the choir room.

"Are you implying that you think New Directions will win?" Blaine teased, nudging him. "I resent that."

"From what I hear, they have something huge up their sleeves."

"Bigger than David's backflips?" Blaine asked.

Kurt nodded solemnly. "From what I hear."

Blaine looked impressed.

They pushed the door open to the usual chaos. Most of the rest of the group was already in the room, rehearsing their various parts. Hunter was standing by himself in the corner, fingers to his temples, beat-boxing to one of their songs. Jeff was belting out his ballad with Nick, David, Thad, and Flint harmonizing in the background. Any semblance of their usual order had disappeared two days ago, when Regionals panic had set in.

Kurt and Blaine settled themselves in the corner, away from the pandemonium.

"Okay," Blaine said, not bothering to take out the sheet music. Every note was permanently ingrained in their heads. "Let's work on that one note that neither of us can seem to hit."

Practice flew by more quickly than usual (mostly because after the two of them nailed the note, they sneakily and quietly sang a few songs that weren't on their setlist, just for a nice break from the monotony).

Kurt split off from Blaine at the mail room, crossing his fingers for there to be a care package from either Mercedes or Rachel (Mercedes sent him scarves, Rachel sent him delicious vegan cookies). Instead, there was only a thin envelope addressed to him, with no return address.

Curiosity got the best of him. He knew it probably wasn't smart, due to the amount of anonymous hate mail he'd gotten over the years, but he was curious as to who would have gotten his Dalton address, and _how_.

He carefully slit the envelope along the top, and pulled out the neatly folded stationary, reading while he walked.

The penmanship was impeccable, flowing, and the wording was careful. He knew immediately who had written it, without looking at the name at the bottom.

xxx

Dear Kurt,

I don't quite know how to begin this letter. I am so incredibly grateful for you. What a strange way to start, but true nonetheless. You were the first person besides perhaps Layne to stand up to me, and I appreciate it. Your words did something. And I appreciate you giving me a chance to explain, as well as all the help on my homework.

I understand that Blaine isn't ready to forgive me, and I can't blame him in any way. I also know that he doesn't believe me, and I can't exactly blame him for that, either.

I talked to Layne, anyway, and that's a start. She says that she needs evidence that I've changed. She needs to see it for herself. But she gave me your P.O. box number at Dalton, and that's something.

I'm still struggling. It's hard. It's hard to just change your mind about something or someone after hating them so intensely for years. And maybe at the beginning it wasn't Blaine's sexuality that bothered me, but I pinned everything on that until I convinced myself that it was, and it's going to take me a while to get out of that mindset. It's still hard for me to accept... well, gay people. But I'm working on it. All I can think about is how much I've hurt him, and then I'm filled with so much _shame. _

I won't write to him yet. I know he wouldn't want me to. And I will only write to you if you want me to. I thought you should know how thankful I am that someone has finally made me see.

It will take time, and I know that. I have to wait for Blaine to forgive me for all that I've done. And sometimes I find myself falling back into that mindset. But Layne's been so helpful. She sends me things- articles, stories- that I can read and I'm finally starting to understand what you and Blaine go through. Your lives are hard, too. I was stupid for thinking they'd be easy.

This is strange and overwhelming and I'm so afraid of relapses where I'll lash out and become cruel and thoughtless again. It's become almost a part of my personality to be awful to him. But I _know_ it has to stop.

This letter has gone on long enough. Just- thank you. For everything.

Most sincerely,

Jane Anderson

xxx

He slipped the letter into his pocket, his mind whirling. Progress. They were making progress with her.

Blaine was waiting outside the dining hall's doors for him, looking impossibly dreamy as always. Kurt did a sort of skip-hop over to him, sliding his arm through Blaine's, as was habit by then.

"You seem happy," Blaine remarked as they made their way through the doors and into the noisy hall.

"Letter from Mercedes," Kurt lied easily, beaming at him. "And I'm excited for Regionals. Nervous, but excited."

"The adrenaline's starting to kick in," Blaine teased, grabbing trays for both of them.

It was strange, how mixed Kurt's feelings about Regionals were. He was excited, certainly. But not as excited as he'd been last year, when he didn't even have anything close to resembling a solo. And that made him feel guilty. The Warblers had been good to him, but he knew exactly why he wasn't happy at Dalton or in the Warblers. He still hadn't let go of New Directions like he needed to. And he couldn't seem to be able to make himself _want _to let go of them, nor make himself want them to let go of him, as it seemed that they were.

Because he knew there were only two things keeping him at Dalton- the zero-tolerance no harassment policy, and the boy sitting across from him.

**A/N: Next chapter is Regionals! Gear up!**


	17. Regionals

**A/N: I can't, you guys, I just can't.**

**I... Klaine. I. What. **

**Brittana. I.**

**FUCK, YOU GUYS, I CAN'T.**

**The slash couples on this show are better than the heterosexual couples and everyone knows it. And that is AWESOME.**

**I can't exactly go over everything I loved about it (setting aside the obvious like Santana's confession), but I will say a couple things: #1. "_Kurt, you're blushing!" _Uh, Blaine- you're flirting. Completely. #2. Blaine going to talk to Burt. A, because oh my god Blaine's first scene without Kurt, proud Mama. B, because oh my god Blaine cares so much about Kurt and I think Burt realizes it. I wouldn't do this for any of my friends. And I'm proud of Blaine that he _did_ do this for Kurt. #3. Kurt's sexy faces. Hilarious, and so much second-hand embarrassment. **

**In conclusion... Klaine is happening.**

**So. This is the Regionals Chapter. Enjoy the two major bombshells dropped in this. Also, this story is now officially the longest story I have on fanfiction. *confetti shoots out of cannon***

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

The night before Regionals, they were given off by a very gracious and tired-looking Wes.

They all ended up in the choir room anyway, lugging sleeping bags and pajamas and stacks of DVDs. Wes set up the projector and was out in a matter of seconds, snoring his little heart away on the bare floor.

Blaine stole one of the leather couches before anyone else could claim it, cuddling with one of the throw pillows.

David laid himself across Blaine's lap, apparently having decided that Blaine was an acceptable substitute for couch cushions.

"You are crushing my throat," Blaine said, his voice muffled. "If I can't sing tomorrow, Wes _will_ castrate you."

David fell off him onto the floor, curling up in a ball and glaring at Blaine with disgruntled eyes for next fifteen minutes.

Blaine looked at Kurt, who was perched on the arm of his couch with the air of someone who is above such childish proceedings.

"Nervous?" Blaine asked. Kurt _did_ look a little green, under the haughty exterior.

Kurt swallowed. "I think I'm going to projectile vomit."

Blaine sat up, reaching a hand out to him. "You are going to be _amazing_," he said seriously as Kurt let his fingers tangle with Blaine's. "I have absolutely no doubt whatsoever. Now come and share this couch with me because I'm cold and I forgot a blanket."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but his cheeks turned slightly pink as he settled down next to Blaine, folding his blanket around them. It was one thing to share a bed with Blaine when it was just the two of them (because although that was somehow more intimate, this was so much more embarrassing), but when the rest of the Warblers were in the room and seemed to have nothing better to stare at-

Well, then it was just uncomfortable.

After a moment's silence, the other boys began to talk amongst themselves once again and Blaine laughed. "Well, that was awkward."

"Tell me about it." Kurt sighed.

Another moment, then- "Kurt? I'm about to fall off the couch."

Kurt grabbed his arm to still him, laughing a little. "What do you want me to do about it? I'm squished as it is."

"Here." Blaine stood up, tugging the blankets with him. Kurt looked at him quizzically. "Slide back against the arm rest."

Kurt did so, splaying his legs out across the length of the couch.

Attempting to control the brush of color that was trying to spread itself across his cheeks, Blaine climbed over Kurt and settled himself between the other boy's legs, leaning back against Kurt's chest and draping the blanket over both of them.

"Get a room," Jeff called, as several of the other boys in the room wolf-whistled. Blaine very politely flipped them off.

He tipped his head back against Kurt's shoulder and smiled up at him. "Comfortable?"

A small, hopping animal seemed to have taken up residence inside Kurt's stomach as he watched the adam's apple bob up and down in Blaine's throat when he swallowed.

"Very," he whispered back, and _oh god, _his voice did _not_ just crack. "You?"

Blaine nodded, letting his face fall to press into Kurt's neck. "You're really warm."

David, sitting across the room and fighting (politely, of course) with Nick and Flint over what movie to watch, was winking at him so violently it appeared as if he had some sort of facial spasm.

Hesitantly, Kurt let his arms curl around Blaine's waist, lying his hands flat against Blaine's stomach and pretending not to notice or get his hopes up when he felt the muscles under his fingers clench in response.

"Our duet is going to be the best part of the whole performance," Blaine murmured sleepily, folding his hands over Kurt's. "Show those ignorant homophobes what's real."

Kurt laughed. "Or it could cause us to lose the competition."

"We've already thought that over," Blaine said, his eyelids drooping closed.

_What?_ "What?"

"Wes, David, Thad, and I. The council called me to meet with them before we even started rehearsing. We all know the trouble a duet between two guys could cause, and we talked it over, and it's worth it. You didn't wonder about the other two songs we chose?"

"I mean, a little, but I didn't really question it. We _do_ sing an awful lot of Beatles anyway," Kurt said. "You really don't care about losing?"

"As long as Aural Intensity doesn't win," Blaine joked. He opened his eyes, looking at Kurt's face. "Look, Kurt." He waited until Kurt met his eyes. "If the judges _are_ homophobic, then this is a great way for us to get our message out- a sort of a big _fuck you_ to all of those homophobes in the audience. Wes and David and Thad all agreed with me that it was time to change the conservatives in Ohio's opinions on gay rights. It's going to take time, but this will be a start."

Kurt's arms tightened around him. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to _say_ anything," Blaine assured him. "I wasn't even going to tell you unless you asked me."

"Godfather! Godfather!" Flint chanted from the corner. Hunter threw a pillow at him.

"Do you want to practice our duet again?" Blaine asked, a smile twitching his mouth a little.

"_Hell,_ no," Kurt said fervently. Blaine laughed, turning his body a little to snuggle more into Kurt's.

"Tired?" Kurt asked, resisting the urge to brush back the strand of curly hair that was loosening itself from the gel-hold.

"'M always tired," Blaine sighed, closing his eyes again. "Insomnia does that to a person. But I'm catching up on sleep now. I've actually been able to shut my brain down enough to sleep at night recently."

"You are free to sleep on me if you want to," Kurt said, "and I did not mean that in the way it came out."

_Lies_, accused the Rachel Berry voice in his head.

Blaine laughed sleepily. "I know. Thank you."

"Mean Girls!" David yelled, waving the DVD over his head.

"Are you _sure_ your girlfriend isn't your beard?" Kurt asked, arching one of his eyebrows at the boy.

David only laughed, sliding the DVD into the projector.

Kurt could _feel _Blaine falling asleep, in slow stages. While Cady's parents talked to her, his head grew heavier and heavier on Kurt's shoulder. By the time Cady got to lunch, Blaine's head was lolled against his neck, soft puffs of breath sending goosebumps over Kurt's skin.

Kurt hadn't noticed David get up until the other boy was behind him, leaning over the couch, his arms folded against the back, a smirk on his face. "How are the lovebirds?"

Kurt stopped himself from jumping- he didn't want to wake Blaine up. "Shut up, David."

"You two are freaking adorable. You would have the cutest babies," David said, wrinkling his nose a little.

"Not biologically possible, David," Kurt reminded him.

"I notice you didn't deny it," David said with a wink.

Kurt glanced around the room. The vast majority of the other guys were asleep, and the few that were awake were completely focused on the movie.

"If I tell you something," Kurt said, carefully, "would you promise not to tell Blaine? No matter what?"

David's eyes lit up. "I promise."

Kurt laughed. "It's nothing juicy about Blaine, I promise you that. I just- I need to tell someone."

David's brow wrinkled in concern as he moved to sit at the very end of the couch, where Blaine's feet didn't quite reach. "Is everything okay? You're not having issues with... bullying again, are you? Because-"

"No," Kurt interrupted. "Everyone's been wonderful. And actually- I think that's what the problem is."

David frowned. "I'm afraid I don't quite follow you," he said, slowly. "What are you saying?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "I want to transfer back to McKinley."

"What?" David asked, looking as if he wasn't able or willing to believe it. "Kurt, why? What happened?"

"You have all been... so wonderful to me," Kurt began, haltingly. "And this has been... like a dream. But that's all it is. The real world won't be like this for me. The real world is hard, full of people who will hate me and harass me for who I am. And I need to face that. I can't keep running away. Plus-" Kurt took another deep breath. "I _miss_ them. The Warblers are lovely, but we all know I'm not right for an Acapella group. I don't know how to just blend in. I'm too loud and showy."

David had been nodding throughout Kurt's speech. "You make a fair point," he said, when Kurt was finished speaking. "I can tell you're not happy here. Or maybe you are, but it's also a cage for you. But... what about... Karofsky?"

"We've thought about that," Kurt said, finally giving in to the urge to comb his fingers through Blaine's hair. It was much softer than expected. "My dad and Finn and I. We can't get him expelled, but we have a very frightening woman patrolling the hallways who for some reason really likes me. And Puck, Mike, Finn, and Sam have all agreed to work as my sort-of bodyguards, protecting me from bullies. Artie too, but there isn't much he can do, being wheelchair-bound."

"When are you going to break it to Blaine?" David asked quietly.

"I don't know," Kurt admitted. "I jut- I'm transferring back soon after Regionals. I- I don't know when to tell him."

"He's going to be heartbroken," David said softly, looking at his friend's sleeping face. "You're his best friend."

"I think he'll be fine. He has you and Wes," Kurt said, with a wistful sort of sigh. "I, however, will _really_ be heartbroken."

David turned his head to the side.

"I'm in love with him," Kurt said, in an almost inaudible whisper.

To his surprise, David flapped a dismissive hand. "Oh, I know."

"You do," Kurt said levelly.

"Of course," David said. "You made it a little obvious, you know. We've known since... well, since the moment you asked us if we were all gay and Blaine said that he was."

"Oh my god," Kurt muttered, looking like he wanted to die.

"If it's any consolation, Blaine is completely oblivious. He has no clue."

"Not much consolation, but thanks anyway." Kurt sighed, brushing his fingertips over Blaine's head.

"Kurt?" David said, standing up. After a moment, Kurt tipped his head back to look up towards him.

"I'm pretty sure he feels the same way."

Kurt let his cheek press against Blaine's hair, sighing to himself. He let his eyes drift shut as he imagined a perfect world where Blaine actually _did_ feel the same way, and they took on McKinley with the force and power of a freight train.

But things that perfect never actually happened to him.

At some point, he must have fallen asleep, because the next time he opened his eyelids it was morning. Wes was stirring on the floor near them. His phone beeped loudly, and his eyelids shot open. He leapt up with an energy that frightened Kurt, and clapped his hands loudly. Several of the boys groaned, throwing blankets or pillows over their heads.

"We have three hours until our bus," Wes announced loudly. "Get dressed and showered, then report back here at 10:30 sharp for a quick rehearsal before we leave."

Blaine, who was making sleepy noises against him, opened his eyes. He blinked a couple times (Kurt took a moment to admire the length of Blaine's eyelashes), then smiled up at him. "Good morning."

"Good morning, sleepy," Kurt teased.

"So, shower?" Blaine asked, and Kurt tried _really_ hard not to let his mind go where it was going.

xxxxx

"There are a _lot_ of people out there," Blaine murmured, staring out over the audience. Kurt reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

"You'll be great."

Blaine looked at him. "We both will."

Kurt couldn't stop the beaming smile that spread across his face. "I know."

They had somehow landed third- a slot that was surprising only to Kurt, because he'd been so sure that New Directions would be third.

His dad was in the audience- god, had it actually been _weeks_ since he'd last seen him?- as well as Carole and the rest of his old club's parents. When they saw him, his dad tipped his hat with a grin and Carole blew him a kiss.

They settled in their reserved seats, but Blaine didn't let go of his hand. If anything, he wrapped his hand even more tightly around Kurt's.

Blaine nudged him and pointed to a group of people a few rows down from them. "Those are the judges, he whispered."

They were severe-looking, gray-haired and glasses-wearing.

Kurt gulped.

The lights dimmed, and Blaine squeezed his hand more tightly. "Here we go," he murmured, and his voice was tense.

Aural Intensity's setlist was predictable, a little boring, even. It was built to please the crowd and the judges- Reliant K, Queen, and Rolling Stones. Kurt felt Blaine relax beside him.

"Maybe we've got a shot," Kurt whispered, and Blaine grinned.

There was an hour intermission between each performance, as the new performers got ready. Blaine (who _still_ hadn't let go of Kurt's hand), pulled him over to the concession stand for his m&m fix, then outside to sit in the unseasonably warm March air.

"You excited?" Blaine asked, popping a green m&m into his mouth.

"Nervous, mostly. My stomach is turning backflips." Kurt said, staring at his shoes. It was the only way he could will himself not to throw up.

"You are going to be fine," Blaine said, soothingly. "Nerves before a performance are good. They keep you loose."

"I don't know, how good will it be when I throw up and then pass out onstage?" Kurt asked dryly.

Blaine laughed, pulling him into a side-hug. "You are _not_ going to throw up _or_ pass out."

"Dying's a possibility," Kurt muttered.

Blaine just gave him one of those looks, and sighed. "Let's run through scales."

Before they knew it, the bells were chiming again to signify the start of New Directions' performance. Blaine stood up, offering a hand to Kurt, who took it gratefully.

They found their seats again just as the lights were dimming, slipping in next to Wes. Wes nodded at Blaine as if communicating something to him, and Kurt frowned in confusion at Blaine, mouthing _"what?"_

Blaine shook his head.

Music started- a tune Kurt didn't recognize, and the audience stirred a little when nobody appeared on the stage.

Kurt, already expecting it, turned around to look at the two back doors of the auditorium.

Sure enough, Rachel slipped through it, crooning a soft tune about hope and something about love. Finn joined in as he came through the other door, his deep voice intertwining and harmonizing with Rachel's.

"They came in through the back again," Kurt muttered to Blaine. "They really have to stop doing that, it's getting predictable."

Blaine covered his mouth with his hand to keep on laughing.

The second number was solely Rachel, with the rest of the group swaying and harmonizing in the background.

The third number belonged to Mercedes and Santana, and was so amazingly perfect in both lyrics and attitude that Kurt couldn't believe it hadn't been written _for_ them.

Come to think of it, could it have been?

He hadn't recognized a single song they'd sung, and he had a wide variety of music on his ipod. Could they have actually written _original_ songs, like Finn had hinted that they might?

So this was the big thing up their sleeves. Kurt slumped back in his seat, for once disrupting his perfect posture. They were so screwed.

He leapt up with everyone else in the audience when they stood to applaud, though, tugging Blaine up with him and absolutely beaming at Mercedes when she caught his eye.

"This is not a cause for panic," Wes said when they met in the green room ten minutes later. "So they wrote original songs. We have arrangements we made ourselves."

"Nobody was panicking, Wes," Flint said, rolling his eyes.

Wes looked around the circle at all the Warblers nodding in agreement.

"Yes, well. Shall we warm up?" Wes asked, looking a little more relieved.

Kurt focused on not panicking and breathing deeply as he ran through his vocal exercises, the only thing keeping him from having a full-scale panic attack being Blaine's hand still holding tightly onto his.

The curtain slid shut as they filed onto the stage behind it, waiting in the semi-darkness for the signal to begin.

"Wes," Blaine hissed.

Kurt felt something sharp and flat and triangular being pressed into his hand. "What's this?" he asked, squinting at it, but unable to quite make it out.

"Pin it on your lapel," Blaine whispered quietly. "Right side."

From the other side of the curtain, Kurt heard, "_and now, from Dalton Academy, in Westerville…!"_

He quickly arranged himself into position behind Blaine, putting a smile on his face as he shaped his mouth into the correct figuration to make a guitar sound.

Just as the curtains opened, Blaine turned his head to smile and wink at Kurt, and Kurt caught a glimpse of the pin on Blaine's lapel.

A rainbow triangle.

_They wouldn't_, he thought, just as Blaine began singing, looking directly at him.

_Made a wrong turn, once or twice_

_ Dug my way out, blood and fire_

_ Bad decisions, that's all right_

_ Welcome to my silly life…_

Their swaying increased in tempo as Blaine broke a little from formation, taking a few steps down the stage.

_Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood_

_ Miss 'no way, it's all good', it didn't slow me down_

_ Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimating_

_ Look, I'm still around._

_ Kurt_ shot a look at the judges. One was pursing her lips in clear disapproval. He had to hide his grin as he jumped down beside Blaine, opening up his dance steps as he and Thad joined in the chorus.

_Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel_

_ Like you're less than, less than perfect_

_ Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel_

_ Like you're nothing, you are perfect, to me._

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a brief smile on the last line before Kurt took a step back and Blaine resumed singing.

_You're so mean, when you talk _

_ About yourself… you were wrong_

_ Change the voices in your head_

_ Make them like you instead_

Blaine sang this part to David, holding his hands out as if he was pleading, and David played along, clasping Blaine's hands to his own heart.

_So complicated, look happy, you'll make it_

_ Filled with so much hatred… such a tired game_

_ It's enough! I've done all I can think of_

_ Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same._

His eyes locked with Kurt's, and he gave a slight nod to him at this. All of the boys spun in synch as the last chorus began, and Blaine reached his hands out on both sides to hold Kurt's hand on one side and David's hand on the other as they finished the song.

Kurt and Blaine slipped off the stage as Jeff stepped forward to sing his song, preparing for their duet.

Members of Aural Intensity moved around them, wearing the strange, feathered headdresses they'd been outfitted with for their performance.

Kurt breathed shallowly. From the stage, strains of "_I get by with a little help from my friends… oh, I get high with a little help from my friends"_ filtered through the curtains to his ears. Jeff was killing the song, and yet somehow Kurt doubted it would make the judges like them any more.

And if his thought train was right, his and Blaine's duet would be the last nail in their coffin.

Blaine's hands were quivering as applause sounded from the other side of the curtain. It was the first time Kurt had ever seen him nervous about anything.

He was sheet-white, and shaking, and he was still somehow the most beautiful thing Kurt had ever seen.

There was a shuffling from the other side of the curtain.

It was now or never, Blaine thought, and opened his mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick," was what came out.

"I think I'm in love with you," Kurt said with a soft smile and a squeeze of Blaine's hand, before slipping through the curtain to the sound of the Warblers singing _"Wellllll it..."_

_ "Started with your hips, then I moved up to your lips_," Kurt sang, turning to look to the curtains where Blaine stood, still frozen with shock. "_To take a chance, asked for a dance, cuz you're the cutest thing on this side of the world-"_

_ "We call our homes"_, Blaine sang, stepping out of the curtain and onto the stage, having nearly missed his cue. He couldn't, however, miss the beaming smile that broke across Kurt's face, and the eyes that shone with that _something_ that he'd always sort of hoped was bigger than friendship.

A bubble rose in his chest as he sang_, "yet I feel so all alone, half of the time we gotta live with what we got and I got nothin' so I pray you take my hand so we can conjure up somethin' rad..."_

They were moving towards each other, identical massive grins on their faces, and they reached each other just as the chorus started.

"_And you could move on with your whole life," _Their voices joined together as they reached for each other's hands.

"_Just like you do,"_ Kurt sang with the brightest smile Blaine had ever seen on his face, and their fingers twined together.

"_Just like you shooby-do-do-do," _Blaine sang back.

"_And you could make everything all right,"_ they joined together, Kurt giving Blaine's hand a squeeze, "_and I want you to..."_

Blaine brought his hand up to Kurt's shoulder. Kurt, realizing what was happening, placed his hand on Blaine's waist as they waltzed around the stage in front of the rest of the group.

"_Because ever since the first dance, all I've thought about is loving on you."_

_ "So I moved to the dance floor," _Kurt trilled, _"with instincts and nothing more,"_

_ "I had ants in my pants, I did the boogie dance, and there was nothing to do but laugh," _Blaine sang back, doing some sort of ridiculous move that was somehow reminiscent of the chicken dance and actually had Kurt laughing out loud.

_"So I took another leap, hoping to sweep you off your feet," _Kurt gave him a flirty look that under regular circumstances could have been described as being downright filthy. _"I said, 'baby, maybe we can bust this joint and see if my place is open to chill..."_

_ "And you could move on with your whole life," _The two sang together, joining hands again as they stepped back into their sort-of cross between a waltz and a slow dance. _"Just like you do... just like you shooby-do-do-do, and you could make everything all right..."_

_ "And I want you to," _Blaine crooned, and smiled softly at Kurt as he opened his mouth to join Blaine in the last line of the song.

_"Because ever since the first dance all I've thought about was loving on you."_

xxxxx

So they weren't going to win, not even close. Blaine had realized that after taking one glance at the stern judges sitting four rows up from the stage. So he wasn't exactly bitter or angry when New Directions hoisted their first-place trophy up over their heads. In fact, he was grateful they'd placed at all. He'd been startled enough when they'd been handed the second place trophy, and had quickly handed it off to Wes, who had looked as if someone had just passed him his newborn child.

Kurt had disappeared almost instantly after the results had been announced. It was nearly impossible to find _anyone_ in the hustle and bustle of the crowd, even if they were wearing a Dalton uniform.

_Where the hell is he? _Blaine searched frantically through the crowd, absently waving off calls of congratulations and the various conversation attempts.

_There_. Kurt was standing near the back door, deep in conversation with his father, stepmother, and stepbrother.

Ordinarily, Blaine wouldn't interrupt. But this was too important for that. He had to get to Kurt, to tell him he felt exactly the same way-

Kurt spotted him, and the smile slipped off his face. Blaine's steps faltered for a moment as a million thoughts sped through his mind. What did _that_ mean?

Bravely, he pushed on until he reached the family, offering a hand first to Burt, then to Carole, then to Finn. Finn surprised him by pulling him into a hug, and he was reminded of just how _tall_ the other boy was.

"We'll finish packing your stuff into the car," Burt said, his eyes moving between the two boys, an understanding look appearing on his face. Carole stepped to his side to join him, and Finn excused himself to find his Glee club.

"Stuff?" Blaine asked, momentarily side-tracked. "Are you going home for the rest of the weekend?"

"Not quite," Kurt said, softly.

Blaine blinked. "Then what?"

"I'm transferring back to McKinley," Kurt said, and the words hit Blaine like a sucker punch to the gut. He forgot everything he'd wanted to say as the shock filled him. He could only stare at Kurt, open-mouthed.

Kurt offered him a small, sad smile. "I'll miss you," he said, before walking away.

**A/N: Oh god that. Yeah. **


	18. Returning Home

**A/N: To the reviewer who asked- honestly, I didn't do the uncensored version of "F**king Perfect" because I know Glee wouldn't. They tend to use the censored versions of songs, although I completely agree with you that the uncensored would have been more powerful. **

**And holy shit, guys. It is SO HARD for me not to listen to the Regionals songs. I let myself listen to "Raise Your Glass", because there was NO way I would get through the weekend, and because I knew that it's (hopefully) the song with the least significance to the plot.**

**PLEASE let Misery be significant. PLEASE.**

**I'm having a hard time with thinking about Tuesday. Because part of me is wanting a Klaine kiss SO badly and part of me is knowing- Troll!Murphy is probably going to fuck with our minds again.**

**AND WE HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL APRIL FOR THE NEXT EPISODE.  
**

**A/N: Don't own Glee.**

Mr. Schue raised the trophy above his head, grinning widely as the choir room burst into whistles and applause. He set it down on the top of the piano, clapping his hands a few times before holding them up to quiet the room.

"Congratulations, guys, you _really _worked hard for that," he said, "and I'm really proud of every single one of you."

"It was thanks to you, Mr. Schuester," Finn said, smiling.

"Winning Regionals was all you," Mr. Schuester said, shaking his head. "And I'm not going to take credit for it. Now, we need to start worrying about Nationals."

Rachel sat up a little straighter in her chair.

"But before we start discussing that," Mr. Schue continued, "I'd like to welcome back an old member of the club who has returned to us."

Everyone's faces turned to the door as Kurt walked through it.

Mercedes was the first out of her seat and down the risers, nearly bowling Kurt over as she tackled him in a hug. He clutched her just as tightly, pressing his face into her shoulder as a few rebel tears escaped his eyes.

"_Why didn't you tell me?" _she whispered in his ear, but it was so full of joy that he knew she couldn't be mad at him.

Quinn, Rachel, and Tina were the next down, throwing their arms around him, all of them talking over one another and squeezing the life out of him. Quinn's eyes were shiny as she squeezed his hand.

"Dude… you're back," Sam said, with that slightly confused-looking smile he always wore.

Tina pulled back from him, wiping under her eyes.

"I couldn't stay at Dalton anymore," Kurt said quietly. "It just… wasn't me. I missed all of you far too much."

"Dude, Karofsky's still here," Puck said, standing up.

"I know." Kurt clutched onto the strap of his shoulder bag. "Remember when you guys promised to form a protective circle around me wherever I went?" His eyes moved around the room as all the guys nodded. "Do you think you could maybe make good on that promise?"

"You don't even have to ask," Mike said, looking at Artie, who was nodding in agreement.

"We've got your back," Puck added. "No matter what."

Kurt's eyes were bright. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"It's really good to have you back, Hummel," Santana said softly, offering him an uncharacteristically soft smile. "We all really missed you."

Rachel bounced a little on her toes. "And we need your voice for Nationals. We'll be unbeatable with you."

Mr. Schue clapped him on the shoulder. "Take a seat, Kurt."

Mercedes pulled him into the seat next to her, immediately linking her arm through his. On his other side, Brittany leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Our focus for this week," Mr. Schue began, turning to write on the white board.

Happily, Kurt tuned him out. He'd always had to pay absolutely strict attention to Wes and the rest of the council whenever they'd had a meeting, but in New Directions he'd always been able to completely zone out and yet still somehow follow the lesson. He'd missed that.

"Where's Blaine?" Mercedes whispered to him.

"In class, I'd think," Kurt said, "unless he's still recovering from the two bombshells in a row I sort of hit him with."

Mercedes lifted an eyebrow. "So you told him you were leaving, what was the second one?"

Kurt stared straight ahead as he answered, unable to really look at her. "I told him I loved him, right before we went onstage."

Mercedes' eyes widened and she made a loud noise of astonishment. Mr. Schue stopped in the middle of speaking. "Mercedes? Is there a problem?"

She smiled sweetly until he turned back to the board and the rest of the Glee club looked away. Sometimes it paid that they all had attention spans of squirrels.

"You've been holdin' out on me!" she hissed, nudging his side. "You are coming over right after rehearsal and you are telling me everything."

"Now, since the ballad assignment worked so well last year," Mr. Schue said, "your assignment for this week is to again, find a song that expresses the way you feel about a person, whether it's friendship or love or something else."

Kurt and Mercedes exchanged glances in the mutual understanding that they would be partners for this particular assignment. Something inside Kurt hummed happily- he couldn't believe it, but he'd actually _missed_ the weekly song assignments.

"And like last year, you'll be picking your partner out of a hat."

Kurt and Mercedes exchanged defeated looks. Well, there went that plan.

Rachel raised her hand. "Mr. Schuester, there are now thirteen of us since Kurt has transferred back. How do you expect us to divide evenly into pairs?"

Mr. Schue rubbed his chin. "I'll have to put my name in again," he said. "And whoever I'm with will have to find some sort of teacher/mentor song."

Kurt snuck a glance at Rachel and had to suppress a smile at the sight of her pointedly turning her nose away from their teacher.

Mr. Schue ripped a piece of paper into fourteen pieces and wrote a name on each. "Brittany, why don't you go first?" he suggested.

She reached into the hat. "Tina," she read off, smiling sweetly at the other girl, who smiled back. Kurt made a mental note to ask Tina when the two had become friends.

Mr. Schue rifled through the hat until he found Tina's name, pulling it out and discarding it on the side.

The pairings were odd, to say the least- Mercedes and Sam, Santana and Quinn, Artie and Lauren, Mike and Rachel, Puck and Finn.

"I guess you're with me, Kurt," Mr. Schue said, sweeping the slips of paper into the trash can, and Kurt sighed. What the hell was he supposed to sing to his _teacher_?

The bell rang, and he got up to leave, but was immediately ambushed by the guys before he could slip out with the girls.

"Just so you know," Puck said, flexing his arms a little, "we got your back. You're our boy, and we won't let Karofsky or Azimio try anything."

"We've fought with him before," Sam added seriously. "We can do it again."

Kurt shook his head, smiling a little. The boys looked so fiercely protective and angry that it actually made his chest hurt a little, to realize how much they all cared about him. "It isn't necessary to fight with them."

"But it _is_ necessary to protect you," Finn said, sitting in the chair next to him that Brittany had recently evacuated. "So we have it worked out so you'll have at least two of us Glee guys with you when you walk between every class."

Kurt blinked back tears furiously. He was _not_ going to start crying. "I-"

"And all of us- the girls too- will walk you to and from your car in the morning," Mike said. "So nobody can jump you in the parking lot or something."

"Guys-" Kurt said, his throat a little blocked up.

Finn rested his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "We don't want you to leave again. We missed you when you were gone. We want you to stick around, and us Glee guys have to stick together. We have to have each other's backs."

Kurt stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking from face to face, the earnest expressions identical on all of them.

"We might all get a few slushies in the face," Sam said, with that dorky smile, "but you won't get any more bruises. I promise."

xxxxx

Tina sat cross-legged on his bed, appraising his new bedroom with a critical eye. "I like it," she decided. "It's less bland than your dior-gray room."

He shrugged. "Dior gray isn't the style anymore. I'm just happy I don't have to share a room with Finn now." He slid his phone open to stare at his empty inbox and suppressed a sigh.

"You've been holding out on us, boy," Mercedes accused, taking a sip of her homemade smoothie and raising an eyebrow at him over the edge of her cup. "We want to hear all the juicy details. Spill. How did this declaration of _love_ happen?"

"Hold on," Rachel said, uncurling herself from around his goosefeather pillow and propping herself up onto her elbows, stomach against the bed, legs kicked in the air in the ideal 'listening' position. "Okay. I'm ready."

"I don't think there's actually that much to tell," he protested. "We were backstage right before our duet and he said he thought he was going to be sick and it just came out. I just said that I loved him."

"That is probably the least romantic thing that has ever happened between you two," Mercedes said.

"I didn't _mean_ to," Kurt said, a little miserably. "And then he just stared at me as I went onstage to sing my part, and I thought he was going to miss his cue."

"He seemed so happy when you two were singing, though," Rachel noted, tilting her head to the side. "I, for one, know that's _exactly_ how Finn and I look when we sing together, and I don't know how he didn't _feel _it when-" She noticed the looks on the other girls' faces. "Okay, sorry." She looked at Kurt. "The point is, Kurt, you can't fake that. He was _really_ happy singing that love song to you."

"And maybe you shouldn't have hit him with two bombshells, one right after another," Tina suggested. "You hardly gave him time to think about the first before you told him you were leaving."

"He asked," Kurt said, defensively. "Can we please talk about something else?"

"What are you going to sing to Mr. Schue?" Mercedes asked, grinning.

Kurt groaned, pulling a pillow over his face. "I don't want to think about that. It's just creepy."

Mercedes made a face. "I have to sing to _Sam_," she said. "I don't even know where that boy's brain is half the time or what planet he's from. What the hell am I supposed to sing to him?"

"E.T," Kurt suggested. "Katy Perry."

Mercedes threw a pillow at him.

"Speak for yourself, _I_ have _Tina's_ boyfriend," Rachel said, pointing at the girl in question. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Just Dance," Kurt suggested again. "Lady Gaga."

It was Rachel's turn to throw a pillow at him.

He sniffed, straightening his hair. "I have wonderful ideas," he said. "It isn't my fault you don't like them."

"Kurt?" Burt's voice sounded on the staircase. "How was your first day back, kid? How'd the other kids react?"

He opened the door and blinked a little at the sight of the four of them piled on the bed together. "They took it well, I'm guessing," he said.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," Rachel said, suddenly business-like and with that bossy edge once again in her voice. "Is Finn here?"

Burt opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again when he saw Kurt making frantic 'kill-the-conversation' motions behind Rachel's back.

"Nope," Burt said, after a moment's hesitation. "Nope, he's out with... Puck."

"Oh." Rachel said back, visibly disappointed.

"Dinner in half an hour," Burt said to Kurt, before shutting the door.

"So." Kurt sat up, leaning against the wall, and hugged a pillow to his chest. "Please fill me in, because I feel lost after being gone for so long. What is the relationship status of every couple in Glee now?"

Mercedes and Tina exchanged a loaded glance.

"You have no idea," Mercedes said.

"Mike and I are still together," Tina began, "and so are Brittany and Artie. Lauren and Puck are involved, Santana and Sam sort of have a thing, and Finn-" she stopped, shooting a guilty look at Rachel.

"Finn is still not forgiving me," Rachel said, smiling a little at Tina. "It's okay. I've learned to accept it, and I'm moving on." She shook her hair back a little. "He was holding me back from achieving stardom."

"And there is the Rachel Berry I know and tolerate," Kurt said fondly, ducking before she could hit him with another pillow.

Mercedes slipped off the bed, still clutching her empty cup in her hands. "I better get going home. Baby boy, you better text me." She kissed his cheek. "Thank you for making me a smoothie. I needed that _bad_."

He smiled gratefully at her. "You know I will."

Tina patted his cheek, smiling a little at him. "You let us know if anyone's bothering you, and I'll sic Mike on them."

Kurt laughed, squeezing her hand.

Rachel was the last to get up, and she unexpectedly hugged him, giving him a very small smile before leaving the room without another word.

He reached for his phone again, sliding back the unlock button to check the screen, crossing his fingers.

0 new messages.

He sighed.

xxxxx

Finn was uncharacteristically fidgety on the way to school that morning. His fingers kept tapping his steering wheel, and he kept glancing over at Kurt in the passenger's seat (Finn wouldn't let Kurt drive anymore because of possible tire slashing, and it was something Kurt actually _really_ missed, when it all came down to it).

"Are... you okay?" Kurt asked.

Finn looked at him with that panicked expression he always got when asked to lie. "Yeah, yeah, I- uh, it'll only be a matter of time before Karofsky figures out _I'm _the one driving you to school and targets my car."

It was a lie- or, at least, a half-lie. Kurt knew that. But he couldn't fathom what reason Finn could possibly have to lie to him. He narrowed his eyes at his step-brother, but said nothing as Finn pulled into the parking lot.

Sam, Puck, Artie, and Mike were already standing at Finn's usual parking spot, waiting for the two of them to arrive. They surrounded Kurt immediately when he stepped out of the car, forming a protective ring around him. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so _necessary_.

Finn was in his homeroom, at least, and the rest of the boys split from them as they reached the door.

Mrs. Granger smiled in delight when she saw him. "Kurt! I was so excited when I saw your name pop back up on my attendance list. It's wonderful to have you back."

"I missed it here," he said simply, his eyes taking in the slightly beaten-up desks, a welcome contrast to the carved-wood tables and leather armchairs that were Dalton.

Mike and Puck automatically appeared after homeroom to take him to math, and it was almost too adorable, the way they took their job seriously.

Everyone was acting shifty all day, but he guessed that was only understandable. It was his first full day back at McKinley. He, himself, kept flinching every time he rounded a corner, expecting the cold slap of a slushie to smack him in the face.

He never saw Karofsky once, but he saw Sue several times, which might have accounted for that. She nodded to him briskly each time.

He had to hide his smile as he left French and every member of the club fell into step beside him, walking with him to the choir room, and the last period of the day.

"I feel like the president," he whispered to Brittany, who just looked confused.

As usual, Mr. Schue was the last one in the room, setting his briefcase down on top of the piano and turning towards them.

"Okay," he said, and maybe it was a little weird, the way he shot a questioning look at Finn. "Does anyone have their ballad?"

For a moment, nobody stepped forward, then-

"I do," said a voice from the doorway, and it was the voice Kurt had been missing for days and waiting to hear, and he was absolutely sure that he was hallucinating as Blaine stepped into the room, his guitar in hand. Because this kind of thing only ever happened in romantic movies and never in real life, and this wasn't a romantic movie, and yet Blaine was standing there in dark-wash jeans and a purple button-down shirt, looking impossibly handsome and _real_.

Beside him, Finn's face broke into a gigantic smile.

Blaine's eyes went straight to Kurt as he walked up beside Mr. Schue, in front of the piano. "I heard about the assignment," he said, "and I asked Mr. Schue if it would be okay to take his spot."

Kurt couldn't speak.

Blaine slung the strap of the guitar over his shoulder and nodded to Brad, who began to play.

The guitar was soft, but somehow upbeat, and Blaine's eyes never left Kurt as he began to sing.

_It's so good, what we've got_

_ You and me, we laugh a lot_

_ We're just friends, simple as that_

Kurt's heart clenched. Just friends. One part of his brain wondered why the hell Blaine had driven two hours to McKinley to tell him that, and another part wondered how he could have possibly expected anything different. He tried to keep his expression neutral.

_I don't want it to end, but I'm falling in love_

_ With the best friend I've got _

Something else entirely squeezed at Kurt's chest.

_They say you don't really want to fall in love_

_ You don't really want to mess this up_

_ You don't really want to fall in love_

_ Cuz falling in love just breaks your heart_

There was something, happiness, growing in his chest. Sheer, undiluted joy. He was going to laugh or cry or both. Either would be embarrassing.

_If we kiss... if we touch..._

A small blush bloomed on Blaine's cheeks at the suggestion, but he plowed forward.

_All of this could get rough_

_ Ain't no thing, ain't no strings_

_ Ain't no "I love you", "you love me"_

_ We won't get caught up in the stuff that brings..._

Blaine lifted the guitar off his shoulder, handing it over to Puck, who resumed playing for him with a grin on his face. He approached Kurt, taking one of Kurt's hands in his, and holding his gaze. _Just like a goddamn rom-com._ And the rest of the damn club had been in on it the whole time.

_They say you don't really want to fall in love_

_ You don't really want to mess this up_

_ You don't really want to fall in love_

_ Cuz falling in love just breaks your heart..._

_ falling in love just breaks your heart..._

_ falling in love just broke-_

And suddenly, Kurt couldn't take it anymore, and he reached his hand out to wrap it in the collar of Blaine's shirt, yanking him in for a kiss, effectively cutting him off.

Blaine's lips were warm, and soft, and tasted the slightest bit like cherry chapstick. Later, Kurt would hardly be able to remember what the kiss had actually _been_ like because the moment had been so absolutely surreal. But at the moment, his mind was wiped completely clean of any thought besides _holyshitI'mkissingBlaine_. And maybe he only had two other kisses to compare it to, but he was absolutely sure that _no_ kiss could really match the short, chaste, close-mouthed kiss they'd just shared, that had completely blown his mind.

Blaine pulled his head back, his eyes slightly dazed.

All at once, Kurt was made aware again of the other fourteen people in the room, and he looked around sheepishly, his hand clenching around Blaine's defensively.

To his surprise, every person in the room was grinning, even Brad, who was for some reason _still_ playing the piano.

"Wanky," Santana drawled, smirking.

Kurt looked back at Blaine, who was still only focused on him.

"I love you, Kurt," Blaine breathed quietly.

"I got that from the song," Kurt breathed back, although it didn't stop the shiver that had run down his back when Blaine had finally, _finally_ said the words. "You already know how I feel about you."

Blaine stood up to sit in the seat next to Kurt. "When you told me that, I had no time to react. You threw me completely off-guard. And then after, I was so determined to find you and tell you how I felt, but you knocked me off my feet _again_ when you told me you were leaving." He waved around at the surrounding company. "So I talked to Mercedes and Finn, and they filled me in on your Glee assignment, and I knew what I had to do."

"You skipped school to come down here and sing a song to me to tell me that you love me?" Kurt asked, staring at Blaine. "That's really romantic, and also insane."

Blaine shook his head. "I didn't skip school, Kurt. I'm _at_ school. Well, not technically. Not yet."

"I don't understand," Kurt said, looking from face to face. Nobody else in the room seemed surprised.

"I transferred out of Dalton," Blaine said. "Right after you did. I talked it over with my parents. I go here now."

And now Kurt could understand completely how Blaine had felt when Kurt had jumped startling news on him twice in a row. His brain simply could not process what Blaine was saying to him.

"I think you broke him," Quinn said with a smirk.

"I _knew_ he was a china doll," Brittany whispered. "The wizard who gave me my cat gave him the power of speech."

"Kurt?" Blaine asked, pressing his palm to Kurt's cheek. Kurt continued to stare at him, wide-eyed.

"I'll be an official student tomorrow," Blaine said.

Kurt blinked. "I have to sing a song to you now."

"I think that's generally how it works," Blaine said, worried.

"I have someone to sing a love song to."

And suddenly, Blaine got it. Kurt was probably the only person here who'd _never_ had a person to sing a love song to- a person who would actually appreciate it, much less feel the same way as he did.

"So this is okay?" he asked, his eyes anxiously searching Kurt's face. "Me... being here?"

"It is far more than _okay_," Kurt said, threading his fingers through Blaine's. "I can't believe you're here."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the others begin to file out of the room, to give them a little bit of privacy.

"Is it too cliché to say that I'd follow you anywhere?" Blaine asked, with a slight smile.

"Only slightly stalkerish," Kurt said, leaning to the side to lay his head against Blaine's shoulder. He couldn't tell if it was his hand or Blaine's that was shaking.

"Well, slightly is better than, 'yes, Blaine, it's creepy as hell'."

"You might get a slushie in the face every day," Kurt said.

Blaine nodded.

"You'll get teased. Harassed. Humiliated."

"Bring it."

"You'll get thrown into a dumpster and shoved into lockers. You could even get death threats."

Blaine sighed, pulling away so Kurt was forced to lift his head off Blaine's shoulder. Kurt looked at him, confused.

"Kurt, answer me this," Blaine said. "Despite all of that, despite any amount of grief either of us will have to suffer through, how do you feel about acting like a couple at school?"

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Would you walk down the hallway holding hands with me? Would you meet me outside our classroom doors? Would you sing romantic duets in Glee club with me?" He searched Kurt's eyes for something, anything, that might tell Blaine that he wasn't ready for it.

"You know how I am about rubbing things in people's faces," Kurt said, with a little smirk.

His smile faded as his eyes searched Blaine's face anxiously. "Are you sure about this? I mean, your friends... Wes, David..."

"Can handle things without me," Blaine interrupted. "Sure, they'll miss me, and I'll miss them. But they have each other, and they had each other long before I was around."

"And the Warblers?"

Blaine shrugged. "It's high time somebody else got the spotlight. There are other talented people in the Warblers, and I've been hogging the attention. Jeff deserves to take lead."

"And if we break up?"

"Call me an optimist, but I don't really see that happening. As long as we don't let _their _drama get to us." He gestured around the empty choir room, as if to demonstrate who "they" was. "And _if_ we do- that's a big _if_- I can't lose you." He held Kurt's eyes with his. "You're my best friend, and I will do everything in my power to keep it that way."

He stood up, pulling Kurt with him, and neither boy could keep the beaming smiles off their faces, nor their eyes off each other.

_I think that possibly, maybe I'm falling for you_

_ Yes, there's a chance that I've fallen quite hard over you_

_ I've seen the waters that make your eyes shine_

_ Now I'm shining too..._

_ Because, oh because, I've fallen quite hard over you._

_ No one understands me quite like you do_

_ through all of the shadowy corners of me..._

_ I never knew just what it was_

_ about this old coffee shop I loved so much_

_ all of the while, I never knew..._

_ all of the while, all of the while..._

_ It was you. _

**A/N: So. Yeah. Klaine happened. Now can it PLEASE happen on the show? PLEASE?**

**Anyway, someone asked about the songs, so:**

**Since the very beginning of this fic, here are the songs sung and artists:**

**Chapter 4: **

**Tango Maureen- Rent**

**Whistle For the Choir- the Fratellis**

**Chapter 5:**

**Hold Me Tight- the Beatles**

**There's a Fine, Fine Line- Avenue Q**

**Chapter 8:**

**Safe and Sound- the Electric President**

**Chapter 13:**

**Moonshadow- Cat Stevens**

**Little Lion Man- Mumford and Sons**

**Dancing in the Moonlight- Toploader**

**Chapter 16:**

**Tie a Yellow Ribbon- Tony Orlando**

**Chapter 17:**

**F**kin' Perfect- P!nk**

**With A Little Help From My Friends- the Beatles**

**First Dance- Never Shout Never**

**Chapter 18:**

**Falling In Love (With My Best Friend)- Matt White**


	19. The Way I Am

**A/N: **

**YOU GUYS**

**THEY JUST**

**THEY**

**THEY DID**

**OH MY GOD**

**OH MY GOD**

**I HAVE BEEN SCREAMING AND RUNNING AROUND AND GRINNING LIKE AN IDIOT FOR THE PAST 24 HOURS**

**I JUST CAN'T HANDLE THIS**

**Soooo... changed my tumblr, in case you don't realize and freak out or something.**

**I'm now klemonademouth. tumblr. com**

**(because lemonade mouth was taken, and klemonade... is like Klaine... plus lemonade...)**

**Yeah, I don't know.**

**Also, if anyone has any song suggestions for Kurt and Blaine, or any other characters, feel free to suggest them. I cannot promise I'll use them, but I'm always up for suggestions. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. AND I DON'T OWN WHAT HAPPENED REGTLAEKFHG**

"How did it go?" David asked, the moment Blaine picked up the phone.

Blaine sighed, glancing around the parking lot for any sign of Finn's car, then looked at his watch. Dalton's classes should have already started, and although McKinley kids may have been able to use cell phones in between classes, Dalton kids certainly were not.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"We told Professor Elliot that we were too distraught over your transfer to properly function as exemplary students," Wes said. "Now tell us what went down with Kurt."

"That's none of your business," Blaine said loftily.

"You're smiling," David accused. "I can hear it in your voice."

"You can't prove anything."

"Did you finally choose the right song?" Wes asked. "I know you were trying to write your own, but really. There aren't many words you can rhyme with 'porcelain' or 'glasz'."

"He may or may not have kissed me," Blaine admitted.

There was a loud clunking noise.

"David dropped his phone," Wes explained. "So all of the sexual repression just came out, then, did it?"

"I neither confirm nor deny anything," Blaine said firmly. "Except that the song I finally settled on was 'Falling in Love With My Best Friend' by Matt White."

"You-tubing it as we speak," David said, and Blaine heard the sound of keyboard typing over the phone.

The bell rang.

"I have to go," Blaine said hurriedly, looking at Sam, who was patiently waiting a few feet away. He'd been surprised to find when he transferred that the bodyguard squad wasn't limited to just Kurt. The guys had almost immediately arranged with him which guys would be walking him from class to class.

It was weird for him, the feeling of _not_ being liked by everyone. Not completely foreign- he'd gone to public school before, after all- but Dalton had spoiled him. He was used to being liked by everyone, admired even.

"This is a highly romantic song," David said, before his two friends hung up.

"Ready to face the firing squad?" Sam asked, beeping the lock button on his car.

Across the parking lot, he saw Kurt getting out of Finn's car, and his face automatically broke into a wide smile. "As I'll ever be," he said, already starting over to his boyfriend_ (boyfriend)_, clutching a non-fat mocha in his hand.

Kurt gave him a somewhat shy smile as he accepted the mocha. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Blaine said, pointedly taking Kurt's hand.

"How did you sleep?" Kurt asked. The tips of his ears were pink, something that would never stop being adorable to Blaine.

Blaine rolled his neck and shoulders in response, wincing. "Sam's couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep."

"My sister goes back to college in like, a week," Sam said, throwing a punch at his shoulder. "Then you can have her room."

"You're staying with Sam?" Kurt asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"He was the only person Mom and Dad were okay with me staying with," Blaine said, slinging an umbrella over his shoulder.

Kurt looked up at the cloudless blue sky, then back at Blaine.

Blaine smiled at him, swinging their clasped hands between them. Artie wheeled up beside them, and held out a fist. Blaine just looked at it in confusion, but Kurt rolled his eyes and leaned over to tap his fist against Artie's.

"Did you find a song to sing to Lauren?" Kurt asked, as Brittany joined them to latch onto the handles of Artie's chair.

Artie shook his head. "Looking for a song that says what a badass she is."

Kurt clicked his tongue in understanding.

"How about you?" Artie asked, pushing his glasses up.

Kurt nodded. "I've got a song?"

Blaine perked up a little. "For me?"

"No, for Mr. Schuester," Kurt said sarcastically, waving Mercedes and Tina over.

Blaine held his hand to his chest, pretending to be wounded, stopping as Sam and Finn moved to open the front doors of the school.

Blaine was _still_ looking at Kurt as, in one smooth motion, he swung the umbrella off his shoulder, opened it, and held it in front of both their faces.

There was a splatting sound, like a snowball hitting a car window, or a slushie hitting an open umbrella, and Blaine closed the umbrella. Red dye mixed with particles of ice dripped slowly off the navy blue canvas. Kurt was staring at him, open-mouthed. Sam, Finn, and Artie were trying and failing not to smile.

Blaine nodded politely at their attackers- three boys in football jackets. "Good morning, gentlemen." He offered his hand to Kurt again, eying the aggressors. "It's lucky I had my umbrella on me, or else when you tripped that could have gotten all over us." He offered the three a charming smile, and laced his fingers with Kurt's, pushing through the three jocks to continue on their path to homeroom.

He stopped by his locker, and twirled the dial a few times before realizing that all of them were standing and staring at him silently.

He turned slowly. "... what?" he asked.

"Dude, you're a genius," Finn said, in awe. "I can't believe we've never thought of doing that before."

Blaine shrugged. "It's a trick that will only work once; they'll be expecting it now. But I forgot a change of clothes and I really didn't want to walk around all day covered in red dye."

Kurt seemed unable to find words.

"And I know how Kurt is about his hair," Blaine added. He leaned over to kiss his (_boyfriend's!) _cheek (and Kurt was blushing, which Blaine would always, _always_ find adorable), grabbed his math textbook, and took the handles of Artie's chair. "See you at lunch."

The only thing that kept him from following Kurt to homeroom, to make sure he got there all right, was the fact that he knew Finn was in Kurt's homeroom. Artie grinned up at him. "How's McKinley so far?"

"Everything Kurt said it would be and more," Blaine replied, "so I think I'm adequately prepared."

Classes were almost laughable, compared to Dalton. After homeroom he had Calculus, and even though it was a Senior-level class he was still miles ahead of everyone in the class. His eyes were glazing over- he wouldn't have to try at _all_ this semester to get an easy A.

Instead, his thoughts wandered over to Kurt, settling themselves into the other boy's eyes and the slope of his nose and the curve of his smile. Something bloomed hot in his stomach, curling in tendrils around his chest as his thoughts fell completely to Kurt's lips- the look, the shape, the taste-

His throat was suddenly dry.

He was _allowed_ to think about that now. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around it. He was _allowed_ to flirt openly and compliment him and five him those looks and touch him and _kiss _him...

His phone vibrated against his thigh, startling him.

**MOM: **How is school?

He'd thought it would be much harder to convince his mom to let him transfer to McKinley. He'd had a whole list of reasons prepared, reasons for why he needed to go there and why he couldn't stay at Dalton. Only one of the reasons included Kurt, although he'd been in the back of Blaine's mind for all the other reasons.

To his surprise, though, his mom had agreed almost immediately.

"Honey, you haven't really been satisfied at Dalton in a while," she said. "Other people find comfort there, and you just don't. Wes and David are wonderful, but they'll never really understand you like Kurt does."

"So you don't think..." Blaine hesitated. "You don't think I'm ridiculous for doing this?"

"From an outsider's perspective, yes, I do think so," his mom said. "And any other mother would say _I _was crazy for letting you transfer schools to chase after a boy, _especially_ since high school relationships rarely last."

He winced a little. "Mom-"

Her voice softened. "But I know you, Blaine. And I know that this isn't only for Kurt, and I know that you regret not standing up to your bullies at your old school. And I know that even if you and Kurt don't work out, you will stay friends with him because you love him first and foremost as your best friend. And that's important. And you need this."

"Thank you, mom," he whispered, not quite able to trust his voice.

"Layne wants to talk to you," his mom said, and there was shuffling.

"He loves you so much," Layne said. "I couldn't tell you before- but it killed me, the way he looked at you and the way you didn't seem to notice."

Blaine shut his eyes tightly.

Layne sighed into the phone. "Blaine, it won't ever be easy. It's going to be twice as hard for you, and it's not fair that it has to be that way, but it will be. And you and Kurt will frustrated and fed up and you'll fight with each other sometimes because of it." Her voice dropped. "But Blaine, please believe me when I say you and Kurt _will_ go the distance. You have what teenagers your age only see in adult relationships- love, and trust, and familiarity, and comfort. You are each other's best friends. It takes most couples _years_ to get there."

His eyes felt like they were burning. His throat was so closed up he couldn't have said a word if he'd wanted to.

"Just don't forget that when you two fight," Layne said, quietly.

And then she'd put their mom back on the phone and Blaine had pulled himself together long enough to figure out arrangements for where he'd stay. He'd had to remind his mother of who Sam was and why he was friendly with any of the other guys at McKinley besides Kurt and Mike (who his mother initially suggested, but Blaine knew exactly how Mike's mother was). In the end, though, his mother had agreed, and he'd spent the past two nights crashed on Sam's couch.

He'd expected leaving Dalton to be far more difficult than it had been. He'd actually come up with various wild schemes to get himself expelled in case he needed something to fall back on.

The Warblers reacted far worse to his transfer than the Dean did, however. He was pretty sure Wes actually started crying, although he continuously claimed that he whacked himself on the fingers with his gavel. David had anchored himself to Blaine's legs, absolutely refusing to let go. Jeff's normally happy face had been overcome with such a look of sheer panic that Blaine had almost wavered. _Almost_. And then he'd spotted Pavarotti, chirping away in his cage behind the council table.

And his resolve had been steeled.

"I'm sorry," he'd said. "I love all of you. Really, I do. And you guys are the _only_ reason I'd even consider staying here. But you understand why I have to leave, don't you?" He looked pleadingly from face to face.

It took a moment, but Nick finally nodded, looking at Jeff, who was sitting beside him. He looked back at Blaine. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we get it. It doesn't mean we'll miss you any less, though."

"I'm moving two hours away, I'm not _dying_," Blaine said. "I'm fully expecting updates on a day-to-day basis about the goings-on here."

"And we're fully expecting updates on the insanity of public-school kids," Wes said, trying to subtly wipe underneath his eyes.

"I'm sure I'll have more than enough stories for all of you," Blaine said.

"Have you-" Jeff stood up, smiling hesitantly. "Have you thought of how Kurt will react to your transfer? What is he isn't happy about it?"

Blaine swallowed. "I've thought about it," he said, "and I talked to Finn. I'm willing to take that chance."

Wes looked at a loss. "Well, I guess there isn't anything else to say."

Blaine blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut. He hadn't been aware until that moment that he was going to _miss_ them so much. He held out his hand to the council, mostly to Wes and David, and smiled a shaky smile.

David ignored the offer of a handshake and pulled him into a hug, wrinkling the blazer Blaine was wearing for the last time. Wes followed quickly after, wrapping his arms around both of the boys.

Blaine stepped back, discreetly wiping his eyes. "See you, prep school boys."

"See you, public school boy," Wes replied, clapping his back.

He let himself have one last look around the choir room, before slipping out the door.

The bell startled him out of his thoughts. It was different than the bell at Dalton- shriller, less melodic. It would take some getting used to.

Artie wheeled up beside him, grinning. "Daydreaming?"

"Not at all," Blaine denied, hoisting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "Just... thinking. It's a lot different here."

"Here's something that should cheer you up," Artie said quietly as Puck joined them outside the classroom. "Kurt's in your next class."

As cliche as it was, everything felt a little lighter as he saw Kurt walking towards him, a little bounce in his step. For a moment, Blaine was content to only stand and look, until he realized he could get to Kurt faster if he walked, too. He met his boyfriend halfway, surprising the other boy bu pressing a palm to his cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

Kurt broke away first, blushing all the way down to the collar of his fabulous shirt. "Blaine, we're in the middle of the hallway," he hissed, his eyes darting around.

"And we appear to have a squad of bodyguards who will quite literally pummel anyone who so much as _looks_ at us funny." Blaine gestured around, then caught Kurt's eye. "Kurt, I want to be able to _be_ with you and show you off, the same way I would at Dalton. And maybe we won't get the same reaction here as we would there, but that doesn't mean we don't have the right to be in love. And it doesn't mean I don't have the right to kiss you when I think you look adorable."

After a minute of examining Blaine's face, Kurt smiled. "Okay," he said, sliding a hand over the one that Blaine still had on Kurt's cheek.

"Okay?" Blaine echoes.

Kurt's smile grew. "Okay," he repeated, pulling Blaine's hand down and lacing his fingers through Blaine's. "Let's go to History.  
"We have History together," Blaine said, and Kurt groaned.

"Please, no more of your puns."

xxxxx

Lunch was the best period of them all. They'd been lucky enough to land the same lunch period together, and when they got to the cafeteria Blaine saw that Finn and Puck had already saved them seats at one of the corner tables. Tina joined them quickly, starting a debate over whether Ke$ha could actually sing (she claimed she could offer solid evidence in Ke$ha's favor, Kurt maintained that 'Tik Tok' told him all he needed to know).

Blaine couldn't remember the last time his life had felt like this. The table bounced between topics so fast he was sure he had whiplash. The conversations were tangled, and mixed up, and there were always at least three going on simultaneously.

It was not at all like eating lunch with the Warblers, who would wait politely for someone to finish talking before saying what they wanted. And it was nothing like Dalton conversation-wise- a school of all boys where the conversations consisted only of girls, World of Warcraft, sports, choir, cars, and Halo.

Here, the girls seemed to rule the conversation. And in _this_ conversation, Kurt seemed the most alive. He argued passionately with Mercedes for ten minutes over whether the spring trend of 'Loungerie' (lingerie that was designed to be worn as outerwear) was refreshingly risqué or disgustingly misogynistic.

He wasso_ animated, _so_ alight, _that it was impossible to see how he'd fit in at Dalton.

He hadn't, Blaine realized, and this was why.

When the bell rang to signify the end of the period, Blaine took Kurt's hand and softly kissed each knuckle on it. It was really adorable, the way Kurt turned pink.

"I'm not a girl," Kurt breathed softly.

"I know you aren't," Blaine said. "But I _am_ a gentleman, and I grew up watching sappy movies. And you are free to be as manly as you like and initiate dates."

"Well, I can take a hint," Kurt said, his lips pressing together as if to hold in a smile. "Would you like to come over my house after Glee rehearsal today?"

A delighted grin broke out across Blaine's face. "I would like nothing better," he said. He cast a final look at Kurt as they went their separate ways, Blaine to Physics, Kurt to English.

Kurt slid into his seat next to Bret, who still smelled homeless, scooted his chair as far away as possible, and pulled out his notebook. This class was easy to daydream in, as long as he looked like he was paying attention, and he quickly zoned out.

Kurt had a _boyfriend_.

He'd thought about it before, of course. Last year, with Finn, he'd pictured what it would be like to have a guy who'd put his arm around him and kiss him in the hallway. He'd entertained the thought again this year, briefly, with Sam.

But he'd never really _loved_ either of them.

And yes, he'd thought about it when he met Blaine, when they ran hand-in-hand down the hallway. And when Blaine had sung "Baby, it's Cold Outside" with him. And every moment in between.

But sometime after that, Kurt had fallen in love with Blaine, and had stopped thinking about things like holding hands and started thinking about far more frightening things like marriage and the promise of forever. Ideas that thrilled him but at the same time scared him _out of his mind_. Because he was definitely _not_ supposed to feel this _intense_ about someone in high school.

And the fact that he would have a boyfriend, a real _boyfriend_, had been the _last _thing on his mind when Blaine sung to him and confessed his feelings.

But now it had sunk in. And he was thinking about it.

_He_ had a boyfriend. Someone to do all that high school couple stuff with. Someone to go out on dates with and say 'I love you' to and someone to chase around the piano as they sang duets together. And someone to _make out_ with.

Even so, he hadn't been able to stop the fear that momentarily pulsed through him when Blaine had pulled him in for a kiss. But he also hadn't been able to stop the elation he'd felt when he saw the folded-arms stance of the Glee boys and the fiercely defensive looks on their faces, daring _anyone_ to mess with Kurt and Blaine.

If there had been _any_ doubt in his head about transferring back to McKinley, it would have disappeared that instant. McKinley was where he _belonged_, and he hoped, in time, Blaine would belong there too.

And maybe he'd pictured having a boyfriend, but he'd never really imagined all the tiny things that it would entail- mostly because they were so _Blaine_ he couldn't imagine anyone else doing them. The look in Blaine's eyes when he'd bent over to kiss Kurt's hand. The smile that had covered his face when Kurt pulled Blaine's chair out for him. The way Blaine had reached over in the middle of lunch to spear a cucumber off Kurt's plate- something he'd done before, but now it held some sort of _meaning_ behind it.

The look in Blaine's eyes when he'd said "I love you".

To be sure, they _were_ doing this a little backwards. They were starting a relationship after being best friends for months, saying "love" before they were even dating. They'd cuddled. They'd fallen asleep together too many times to count.

So yes, maybe they were doing this a little backwards. But then again, he and Blaine had always sort of done things backwards.

And _no_, that _wasn't_ innuendo.

xxxxx

"So," Wes said, the instant Blaine picked up his phone, as if their conversation had never left off. "You sang this highly romantic song to him, and you two made sweet love, right there on top of the grand piano."

Blaine blinked, _hard_. "Oh, okay," he finally managed. "First of all, now I'm _never_ going to be able to erase that image from my head."

David coughed. "Like you'd want to."

"_Secondly_," Blaine said loudly, over Wes and David's guffaws, "_no_. There were some sweet _kisses_, and he asked me to come over his house after Glee today, but I'm not sure exactly what that entails."

"Oh, I could tell you what that entails," David said, and Blaine could practically _hear_ him winking.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Blaine snapped.

Kurt sidled up to him, slipping his hand into Blaine's. His hand was soft, and warm, and a little smaller than Blaine's, and although they'd held hands about a million times before, it was still somehow _different_.

"Hi," Kurt whispered, an adorable smile on his lips.

"Is that Kurt?" Wes demanded. "I want to talk to him."

Blaine rolled his eyes, then held the phone out to Kurt. "It's Wes and David," he said, apologetically.

Kurt held the phone to his ear, grinning. "Hello, gentlemen."

Blaine watched anxiously as Kurt laughed. "Yes."

He paused. "No, that won't be necessary." As he spoke, he trailed his fingers over Blaine's hand and up his arm, raising goosebumps.

"I think he can handle it. We've got our own brute squad."

He laughed again. "Consider your message received. Do you want to talk to him again? Oh-okay- bye, Wes. David." He slid the phone shut and handed it back to Blaine, then patted his cheek absently.

Blaine caught the hand, unable to help himself, and pressed a kiss to Kurt's palm. "What was that all about?"

"The usual," Kurt said, taking Blaine's books out of his arms for him. "Threats of death if I break your heart, offers to send a brute squad down here for protection. I told him we already have one."

"Speaking of, where is our brute squad?" Blaine asked curiously.

"Going incognito," Kurt said, pointing to a person standing next to an open locker a few meters away. The guy's face was barely visible behind the locker, and his shaggy hair was covered by a baseball hat, but it was fairly easy to recognize him as Sam.

"And here comes Mike," Kurt said, nudging Blaine's shoulder.

Mike slapped Blaine on the back as he stopped in front of them. "Ready for Glee practice?"

Kurt nodded, and Sam shut his locker as he joined them. The other Glee kids seemed to converge in on them from nowhere, appearing out of random hallways and classrooms to accompany them on their walk to the choir room.

Blaine and Mercedes quickly claimed the seats on either side of Kurt, and Blaine was maybe a little bit surprised when Puck took the other seat next to him and held up his fist. "Touch it."

Blaine did so, confused, but not unhappy.

Mr. Schue sat at the piano bench, leaning forward and rubbing his hands together. "Okay, does anyone have their assignment prepared?"

Predictably, Rachel raised her hand. "I do, Mr. Schuester."

Out of the corner of his eyes, Blaine saw Kurt and Mercedes roll their eyes at each other in a fond sort of exasperation. That quickly turned to amusement when Rachel turned around, a sort of wicked glint in her eye, and said, "this is for you, Mike Chang," and began to sing.

_Friday night and the lights are low_

_ lookin' out for a place to go_

_ where the play the right music, getting in the swing_

_ you come to look for a king..._

Kurt was covering his mouth to hold in the laughter, and Puck was already gone, having falling off his chair in a bout of hysteria. Mike simply looked confused. Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany clapped their hands, singing along loudly.

_any body could be that guy_

_ night is young and the music's... high..._

_ with a bit of rock music, everything's fine_

_ you're in the mood for a dance_

_ and when you get the chance..._

Here she swooped forward, reaching out with her hands to grab Blaine and Kurt and pull them up to the front of the room. Kurt grabbed Blaine around the waist, twirling him in a dizzying circle as Rachel lifted her hands above her head.

_You are the dancing queen,_

_ young and sweet, only seventeen_

_ dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine..._

_ you can dance, you can jive_

_ having the time of your life_

_ oooh, see that girl, watch that scene_

_ dig in the dancing queen..._

Everyone applauded enthusiastically as she finished; Artie even put his fingers in his mouth to whistle shrilly and Brittany stood up to fist-pump. Rachel curtsied, a beaming smile on her face, before taking her seat once more.

Mr. Schue was laughing too as he stood up, clapping. "Very good, Rachel. Very well done. Very- accurate," he shared another laugh with the club. "Who else has something?"

Kurt raised his hand. "Mr. Schue? If I may?"

"Sure," Mr. Schue said, sitting back down on the piano bench and gesturing for Kurt to continue with his song.

Kurt nodded to Puck and Finn, who got up to move to the front of the room. Finn pulled out a set of African drums from behind a filing cabinet, and Puck picked up his guitar from off the stand.

Kurt took a deep breath and stood up, walking to stand in front of the piano before turning around.

"As you know," he began, "I was originally placed with Mr. Schuester as my partner. But circumstances change-"

Blaine could see Mercedes grinning.

"-and I'm lucky to have my boyfriend as my partner." Kurt's cheeks pinkened a little, and there was a happy little flip-flop of Blaine's stomach. "So, um. This is for you, Blaine."

Finn and Puck both began playing, a low, lazy melody that Blaine was sure he recognized from _somewhere_.

After a moment, Kurt's voice joined in.

_If you were falling, then I would catch you_

_ you need a light, I'd find a match_

_ cuz I love the way you say 'good morning',_

_ and you take me the way I am_

Blaine swallowed against the lump that had appeared without warning in his throat. Kurt smiled sweetly at him.

_If you are chilly, here, take my sweater_

_ your head is aching, I'll make it better _

_ cuz I love the way you call me 'baby'_

_ and you take me the way I am_

The girls were all nodding along, smiling and clapping, as Kurt started swaying a little, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes on Blaine.

_I'd buy you Rogaine, when you start losing all your hair_

_ sew on patches, to all you tear_

_ cuz I love you more than I could ever promise_

_ and you take me the way I am... _

_ you take me the way I am..._

_ you... take me the way I am._

The applause was even more enthusiastic than it had been for Rachel's when he finished, blushing a little. He hurried back to his seat, staring at his lap, until Blaine reached out to place a hand on Kurt's knee.

"You're blushing," Blaine murmured. "It's adorable."

"Well? Did you like it?" Kurt demanded a little pettishly, curling up against Blaine as best as he could in the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

"I loved it," Blaine assured him, and Kurt's face lit up.

**A/N: I have been _waiting_ to use that song. I think Kurt's voice could do it beautifully. **

**This chapter ended up being longer than intended, but also shorter at the same time. I intended to have the "date" sort of thing at Kurt's house in this chapter, but then I got up to eight pages and I was like... maybe next chapter. So it was longer and also shorter. You know?**

**And yeah. I can't promise anything but wow I've written a future chapter (skipping ahead bad Zoey) and DAMN guys. **

**This kliss is getting to me cuz I'm writing like... ung.**

**okay nothing it's weird**

**stop Zoey stop**

**Songs: **

**Dancing Queen by Abba**

**The Way I Am by Ingrid Michaelson**


	20. An Unlikely Friendship

**A/N: I apologize for this chapter. I don't even know what's going on in my head anymore. **

**I'd also like to explain my head!canon to all of you. Although it's obvious that I haven't been following the Klaine storyline on the show at all with this story, I am somewhat following the New Directions storyline, with some minor adjustments. **

**Last season, Quinn was one of my favorite characters, and I hate that they've done this to her. At first, I was like, okay, yes, it's realistic to make her a bitch again. But she was also far more caring last year, even when she _was_ a bitch. And this whole obsessed-with-Prom thing is pissing me off. And I kind of really want a Quinn/Blaine friendship, for reasons unknown, just like I badly want a Puck/Blaine friendship. **

**Also, in this, Finn is not over Rachel. I don't exactly know what went down with Finn and Quinn, but something did, and they both kind of regret it. My head!canon Rachel in this story is a cross between Silly Love Songs Rachel and Sue Sylvester Shuffle Rachel. No Blame It On the Alcohol Rachel for me. Eurgh.**

**Puck dated Rachel for a brief period (a very, very brief period) and is now with Lauren.**

**Sam and Quinn are broken up.**

**Santana is pining after Brittany.**

**Disclaimer: do not own.**

Blaine looked around as Kurt dumped his bag on one of the kitchen chairs. He eyed the large, framed Abbey Road poster standing against the wall in the corner. "Your Dad a big Beatles fan?"

"Both of us, actually," Kurt said, sliding his coat from his shoulders. "We're still trying to find the right place for that poster."

"I didn't know that," Blaine said, taking a moment to pretend he wasn't admiring Kurt's G-rated semi striptease. "It's so weird- we've been best friends and there are still so many things I don't know about you."

"Which is why we should keep spending time together," Kurt said loftily, hanging his coat on the coat rack by the door. "To learn all those little things."

There was a note from Carole lying on the counter, apologetically telling Kurt that she was working later than expected at the clinic and she'd be home at seven, in time for Friday dinner. That Kurt should get the roast in the oven before Burt got home at six.

"We're home alone," Kurt said, folding the note, not realizing how it could have been taken until he looked at Blaine.

Blaine was a really, really cute shade of pink, and avoiding his eyes.

He felt a rush of heat in his own cheeks, and turned quickly to look at the sink. "We could watch a movie, if you want."

He felt Blaine's hand slip into his, and the gentle pressure of lips against his cheek. "Something we've already seen, so we can talk during it."

By mutual decision, _Stardust_ was slid into the DVD player. Kurt snuggled into the spacious couch and felt a moment of that giddy _I-have-a-boyfriend_ happiness when Blaine ignored the rest of the open space on the couch and cuddled up against him.

They watched the opening of the movie in silence, both maybe swooning a little inside over the boyish charm of a young Dunstan.

"See, this is proof in my argument that a hairstyle can make a person either attractive or ugly," Kurt said, pointing to Tristan. "I do not find him in the least bit attractive throughout the first half of the movie, but after Captain Shakespeare cuts his hair-"

"Cuts his hair long," Blaine interceded, a dopey grin on his face as he looked up at Kurt.

Kurt sighed, shaking his head, but wrapped an arm around Blaine. "You love how oxymoronic that is, don't you?"

"What if I gelled my hair to look like that?" Blaine asked, gesturing to the screen and Tristan's ridiculously early-British hairstyle.

"You could pull it off," Kurt said dismissively. He _didn't_ say the myriad of other thoughts swarming his head, like about how Tristan didn't have anything on Blaine in the looks department, or about how Blaine could get dreadlocks and still be gorgeous.

"What if I cut all my hair off?" Blaine asked, wrapping both hands around the one of Kurt's that wasn't around his shoulder.

"It would grow back," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "And you would still be unfairly good-looking."

"You think I'm good-looking?" Blaine asked, blinking. His surprise soon gave way to a wide grin, however. "You think I'm _good-looooking_."

"Shut up," Kurt muttered, a highly attractive red color rising in his ears.

"I think-" Blaine waited until Kurt looked at him. "I think you're adorable."

"Adorable," Kurt mused. "I think _Mercedes_ might have used that word to describe me once."

"Precious," Blaine teased. "Cherubic, darling, cute-"

His breath was knocked out of him as Kurt pushed him over on the couch, leaning over him to press his lips lightly against Blaine's. "And now?" Kurt whispered against Blaine's lips, and _that was so cheating and totally unfair_, because Blaine was sure that Kurt _knew_ how his brain short-circuited every time they kissed.

"Hot," Blaine breathed, the word slipping out before he could do anything to stop it.

There was a momentary expression of shock that flashed across Kurt's face, replaced with a hesitant, unsure expression. "You… really think that?" he asked.

Blaine blinked. When had he tangled his hands in the front of Kurt's shirt? "Of course I do. I just didn't quite mean for it to come out like that." He pushed himself up a little, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand sheepishly. "But, yeah. I thought you knew."

"You always say- beautiful- I didn't-" Kurt couldn't seem to find his words.

Blaine pushed himself up all the way, examining Kurt's face. "You really- God, Kurt, I thought you _knew_ what I think about you." He cupped Kurt's face between his hands. "You are _so_ _hot_."

A delighted smile quirked at Kurt's lips. "You act very confident for a boy who has no idea what he's doing."

Blaine dropped his hands. "I _don't_ know what I'm doing. All my moves come from… romantic comedies." He shrugged a little. "I try too hard. To be romantic. And I'm… really cheesy. Just tell me if I'm coming on too strong, okay?"

Kurt slid his own hand around to hold on to the back of Blaine's neck, his fingers slipping through the little curls there. "You don't have to act confident with me, okay? I like romance- you know that- but I want you to say and do what feels right. For you."

"I'm just as insecure about this whole thing as you are," Blaine admitted, his eyes meeting Kurt's. "You're just better at… accepting that you are."

"Something to work on," Kurt said, leaning forward to kiss Blaine again. He pulled his boyfriend against him once more, turning both of them to face the TV.

"By the way," he said, in an off-hand sort of way, "You're really hot too. In case you were wondering."

He had to hold in a slightly hysterical giggle when he heard Blaine choke.

After a moment of silence in which Kurt admired the clothing choices of Prince Septimus and Blaine admired the clothing choices of Kurt (because really, Dalton's slacks left too much to the imagination and he much preferred Kurt's taste in pants, ie. skin tight jeans), Kurt spoke again.

"Does it seem a little… surreal to you?"

Somehow, he knew exactly what Kurt meant. He'd just be sitting in class or at home and it would hit him: _I have a boyfriend_. _And that boyfriend is Kurt._ And then he'd get a severe case of the chills and stare at nothing for several minutes with a goofy grin on his face.

"Yes," Blaine said, pushing himself even closer to Kurt (which was impressive, considering). "Sometimes it just hits me and I feel… strange, all over. In a good way," he added quickly.

"Like pop rocks, but in your veins," Kurt mused.

Blaine snapped his fingers. "Exactly."

"It's just that- you're here. And I'm here. And we're dating," Kurt said, and the tone in his voice made Blaine want to simultaneously pinch his cheeks and kiss him breathless. The two images were conflicting.

"That we are."

"And, uh. My dad doesn't know yet."

Blaine lifted his head a little from Kurt's chest to give him the old eyebrow-raise.

"I want to tell him during dinner," Kurt said, quickly. "I mean, it's a big deal, Friday night dinner. It started back when Mom and Dad were dating and I guess they made dinner for each other every Friday night. Well, she made dinner, he ordered takeout. He, um. Proposed during one of the dinners. So, it's a- a tradition sort of thing, I guess."

"Kurt Hummel, are you trying to propose to me?" Blaine asked.

"N-no!" Kurt stammered, and Blaine laughed, leaning into him and touching his lips to Kurt's throat.

"I'm kidding."

"I hate you."

They watched the movie in silence for a while longer, until Kurt said quietly, "she looks kind of like my mom."

He was looking at the Princess Una, and there was a soft expression on his face. "I was eight when she died."

"Do you miss her?"

Stupid question to ask, and Blaine berated himself for it almost immediately after asking. But Kurt seemed to actually be considering it.

"Sometimes," he said, finally. "My dad is wonderful and I love him, but my mom understood me a little better. She sang, too, I think I told you that. But it's hard to miss her, because it's hard to remember her, you know? It was a little easier when there was a hole in the family, but now with Carole… I remember her laugh and the way she sang, but it's all sort of… slipping away."

Blaine swallowed. "Does that scare you?"

"A little," Kurt admitted. "I'm scared that Dad's forgetting her. He loves Carole and I'm so happy he's happy, but sometimes I think he's forgetting my mom. I'm worried that soon I'll be the only person left to remember her."

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist. "You won't forget her, and neither will your dad," he said, firmly. "I can promise you that."

Kurt sighed, pressing his lips to Blaine's neck, right where the collar of his shirt met his skin. "It's just something I worry about, sometimes."

He twisted out of Blaine's arms as the door slammed, and the sound of Burt's boots tromping down the hall reached their ears.

"Dad! You're home early." He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth a little. "Um. Blaine's here. Is it okay if he stays for dinner?"

His dad looked at him for a minute. "Yeah, okay," he said finally, before heading up the stairs.

"_He knows_," Blaine whispered dramatically, and Kurt aimed a half-hearted punch at his arm before tugging him into the kitchen to set the table.

Finn and his mom got home a few minutes apart from each other, Finn having spent most of the afternoon playing catch with Puck in preparation for baseball season.

"Why is Blaine allowed to eat over, but I couldn't have Rachel over for Friday night dinners?" Finn demanded, scooping a whale-sized portion of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

"Because Blaine isn't a picky eater, and Rachel was a vegan," Kurt explained, passing a plate to Blaine, who thanked him with a smile. "And it's already hard enough to find recipes that Dad can eat without having to consider a vegan option."

Finn muttered something darkly and stomped into the dining room.

"So how are you liking McKinley so far, Blaine?" Carole asked, sitting down.

"Love it," Blaine said, trading secretive grins with Kurt. "People have been very... _welcoming_."

Kurt kicked him under the table.

"Nobody giving you any trouble?" Burt asked, pointing his fork at Blaine.

Blaine laughed. "Surprisingly, no, not much. I think Sam, Finn, and Puck might have scared them away."

Burt nodded his approval to Finn.

The conversation was going normally. Finn and Burt were talking football, and Carole and Blaine were having a discussion about the healthcare law, and Kurt was sitting there quietly watching them. Mostly watching Blaine, admiring the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks when he blinked and the way his fingers moved when he gestured to make a point, and he felt an unexpected surge of pride when he thought _"that's my boyfriend."_

And he just had to _tell_ somebody. Someone important.

"Dad," Kurt said, suddenly. "This is Blaine."

Everyone, including Blaine, looked at him like he was crazy. _I used to be articulate when I talked,_ Kurt thought. _What happened?_

"Yeah," Burt said, after a moment. "I know."

"No," Kurt shook his head, flushing. "I mean, what I meant was- this is Blaine, and I'm dating him. Blaine, my boyfriend. Uh. That."

Burt looked at them for a moment longer, a moment in which Blaine felt increasingly uncomfortable and was presented with the strange urge to buy a bulletproof vest.

"Yeah, I know," Burt said, finally.

"Oh," Kurt said, looking slightly put-out.

Burt stood up with his plate, heading into the kitchen. "It's your dish-duty night, Kurt," he said, clapping his son on the shoulder.

Kurt shot Blaine a confused look. Blaine shrugged.

xxx

"And I guess he knew we were dating the moment he walked in the house," Kurt finished. Blaine was sitting as close as he could on one of those molded plastic chairs, his arm over the back of Kurt's seat. It was the end of Glee club, and while most of the Glee kids had left the room, some had stayed behind to listen to Kurt recount their date the previous Friday.

"And how did he react?" Tina asked, leaning forward.

"He didn't even get out the shotgun," Finn said, entering the choir room. "I was disappointed."

"_You_ might be," Kurt shot. "I think Blaine was hyperventilating."

Blaine's lips twitched. "I was a little nervous."

"Papa Hummel is intimidating," Quinn agreed. "So it went okay?"

"Blaine's not dead, therefore I consider the mission a success," Kurt said, turning his head to kiss Blaine's cheek.

The couple stood up, Blaine's hand sliding from Kurt's shoulder down his arm to his hand, where he threaded his fingers through Kurt's.

"You two coming home with me?" Finn asked, twirling his keys around his fingers.

Kurt shook his head. "I'm going out with Mercedes and Tina." He exchanged little smiles with both of the girls. "I've been promising them a girl's spa day for a while now."

"I'm just going to go back to Sam's." Blaine looked around, but Sam had already left. He sighed. "Do you think you could give me a ride to his house, Finn?"

"Actually," Quinn spoke up. "Blaine, I was wondering if you wanted to go shopping with me."

It was rather comical, actually, the way every single person in the room's eyebrows shot up.

Blaine tried to force his face into a less surprised but still questioning expression. "Me?" he managed.

"Sure," Quinn said, with a shy sort of smile that looked strange on her normally confident face. "I need some things for Prom and I know you're good at that. And I know Kurt's going out with Mercedes and Tina, so..." she cleared her throat a little. "I could drop you off at Sam's after."

Blaine and Kurt exchanged a quick look, then- "okay," Blaine said, hesitantly. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Great." Quinn smiled warmly. The expression softened her face- she was always pretty, but when she wasn't glaring, she was infinitely more attractive. "I'll meet you at my car in twenty minutes. It's the red-"

"He knows," Kurt interrupted, and Quinn faltered, glancing quickly at him before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

Finn rocked back on his heels, glancing between Kurt and Blaine. Mercedes and Rachel seemed to take the hint, and Mercedes caught Finn's elbow. "Come on," she said, and they left.

"Quinn, really?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow at Blaine.

Blaine raised his hands defensively. "She asked! What was I supposed to say?"

"How about 'no'?" Kurt asked, sarcastically. "She's psychotic this year, Blaine! She probably wants to... kill you off so you don't ruin her chances for the throne!"

Blaine was staring at Kurt. "I'm a boy," he said, slowly. "I'm pretty sure I'm not competition."

"Oh, right, I forgot," Kurt said, his voice a little shrill. "She wants to recruit you to be her Prom King. Of course."

"Slow down," Blaine said, catching Kurt's wrist and pulling Kurt against him, tucking an arm around him. "Why are you freaking out?"

Kurt dropped his face to Blaine's shoulder, and when he spoke, his voice came out muffled. "I don't know. Quinn's freaking me out about Prom."

"What do you mean?"

"She acts like it's her... _right_ to just be crowned Prom Queen. She's so-" he lifted his head, waving a hand in the air, as if Blaine was supposed to understand what that meant. "I mean, she's just- Blaine, we probably won't even get to _go_ to Prom as a couple. You'll end up being Quinn's date and I'll end up being Mercedes'."

"Maybe to get us in the door," Blaine whispered, pushing up on his toes to kiss Kurt's forehead, "but we'll take prom pictures _together_ on your front lawn, and we'll coordinate our tuxes to go with each other, and we'll slow dance together."

"We'll get kicked out," Kurt said doubtfully.

"Then we get kicked out." Blaine sighed, lifting his hand to brush his fingers through Kurt's hair. "Kurt, it honestly doesn't matter to me where we are. We can have our own Prom in the parking lot and I would be absolutely fine with it. As long as I have you."

Kurt groaned a little, letting his head drop back to Blaine's shoulder. "And it was all going so well until you decided to be romantic."

"You love it when I'm cheesy," Blaine grinned, letting his hand stroke Kurt's hair once more before it dropped to Kurt's face, lifting it up a little so he could kiss his boyfriend.

"Go have fun with Mercedes and Tina," Blaine instructed softly, once they broke apart, "and I'll deal with dragon-girl."

Kurt laughed, sliding a hand down Blaine's arm to entangle their fingers together, and the two of them left the choir room.

It was a little awkward, the drive to the mall. Quinn spent the first five minutes of it tapping her perfect nails against the steering wheel before she leaned over to turn on the radio. Katy Perry, _Teenage Dream_. Fitting. The song sort of haunted Blaine.

Not that he was exactly complaining, because it reminded him of the first time he'd met Kurt.

"Isn't Prom not for a couple more months?" he asked, finally.

"So?" Quinn snapped. "Stacey Trioldi already has her dress and I need to snag one that nobody else will have."

Blaine cringed away a little in his seat.

Quinn seemed to realize what she'd done. "Sorry," she breathed, glancing over at him. "I get... defensive. I- I need other things, too. Clothes. I, um- I had to alter a lot of my clothes when I was pregnant with the baby."

"Right." Well, this was approaching awkward territory fast. Blaine had no idea how to deal with talking to girls about unwanted teenage pregnancies.

Fortunately, Quinn pulled into the mall parking lot. She found a place quickly, and unbuckled her seatbelt, smoothing out her dress. "Ready?"

He sighed. _As I'll ever be._

xxxxx

"So is Quinn Blaine's hag now?" Mercedes asked, trying not to move her lips. They were all in the middle of a full-out facial, and Kurt could feel one of his cucumbers slipping down his cheek. He reached up to adjust it.

"_No_," he said, firmly. "She's just- if you haven't noticed, she doesn't have a lot of real friends. In fact, I'm pretty sure we're the only people who tolerate her anymore."

"And Blaine." Tina pointed out.

"I think Blaine is a little scared of her, to be honest."

They finished Kurt's facial, and they were just about to begin on pedicures when Kurt's phone began to ring to the tune of _And Your Bird Can Sing_.

He wouldn't have answered his phone normally, because he was in the middle of a girl's day with Mercedes and Tina and really, whoever it was could wait. But he recognized the ringtone- it was one he'd set for the Andersons' home phone, and he couldn't imagine why Peter or Wendy would be calling him.

So that left one person.

He excused himself quickly, pacing to a silent area to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Tell me why you love Blaine."

The command was unexpected. He was a little taken aback by the forceful tone in her voice. "Jane?"

"Tell me why you love him," she repeated, and there was a desperate edge to her voice. "Please, Kurt, I'm beginning to slip again."

"I- I love him because he's my best friend," Kurt said, a little uncomfortably. He'd never actually told anyone this- never said out loud all the reasons he was head-over-heels for his friend. He'd only ever repeated them in his head. "I love him because he seems to always know what I'm thinking, and because he knows exactly what to say sometimes and then others he's at a loss, and they're equally adorable. I- I love that we have conversations, real conversations, about things that matter to both of us."

He was picking up steam now. "I love the way he has this smile that he's only ever smiled at me. I love it when he loses his confidence and is just _vulnerable_ and looks at me like I'm his support. I love how, given the choice between a chair and the floor, he'll sit on the floor. I love that he says he's awful at romance, but he's only really awful when he tries too hard, or quotes cheesy movies. I love his singing voice and his laugh, and I love his relationship with Layne and baby Blaine. And I love the way he still loves _you_, even after everything you two have been through."

There was breathing on the other end of the line, choked noises like Jane was trying not to cry. "Thank you," she said, quietly.

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

Mercedes and Tina were giving him those looks, like they were starting to get a little annoyed, so he turned his back to them, facing the wall, plugging a finger in his ear.

"There were... two boys," Jane said, quietly, "and I said something to them- I didn't mean to, it just came out, instinct, you know- and I was expecting them to be upset or hurt and instead they just _laughed_ and then they-" she hesitated, "-they started _kissing_, and I was _repulsed_, and I hated myself for being repulsed, and-"

"Calm down," Kurt said, quietly. "Take a deep breath."

Jane followed his instructions.

"It isn't going to be easy," Kurt told her, gently. "You're going to take steps backwards, because that's what happens. The important thing is that you're trying. I'm proud of you for calling me when it got too hard."

Jane's breathing was still shaky. "I know you and Blaine are dating," she said. "Mom and Dad and Layne sort of tried to keep it from me, but I know. And I'm happy. But I don't know if I'm really ready to see you two together."

"Luckily for you, Florida is too long a trip to make often," Kurt said, "at least for me. So you won't have to."

"You're forgetting that Florida is our winter home," Jane said. "It's March, Kurt. We're coming back to Columbus."

Kurt might have stopped breathing.

"I still want you to come over and everything," Jane said, "and visit all the time. I just- don't want- to see-"

"I'm not going to stop being Blaine's boyfriend, Jane," Kurt said, stiffly.

"I'm trying to work through this, Kurt! I thought you were trying to help me, here. All I'm asking is that you don't do... _that... _in front of me."

"What?" Kurt snipped. "Act like we're in love? I'm sorry it's such a crime to you, Jane."

"I'm _trying_, Kurt!"

"And I'm trying to help you, Jane," Kurt said back, shortly. "But not when you ask me to do things like that."

He hung up.

xxxx

"Sweeney Todd, really?" Quinn asked, looking him over skeptically. "It doesn't seem to be your kind of movie."

"Kurt thinks it's creepy, too," Blaine said, shrugging with one shoulder. "I don't know. _Epiphany _gives me chills every time."

"I think that's the intent," Quinn replied, pulling a sweater from the rack and eying it critically. Apparently, not girly enough. She put it back.

"You know what I mean. It's just a really passionate song."

She was giving him that "you're-crazy" look he was beginning to recognize, having seen it on nearly everyone's faces lately. Apparently here, he was the weird one.

"Passion doesn't only exist in love or lust," Blaine explained, holding up a white and pink sweater for her to approve of. "It exists in a variety of emotions. Anger, jealousy, ambition. It even exists in emotions we can't quite name- those people who are _passionate_ about making a difference in the world, whether it be in the rights of minorities or in environmental care."

"And in his passion?" Quinn asked, accepting the sweater.

"Rage. He's lost everything. He has nowhere to go but up, and he wants everyone to _feel_ his pain. Physically, rather than emotionally, as he feels it."

She stared at him for a while longer, then pursed her lips, nodding. "You're right. I can see that."

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" he said.

She half-snorted. "You'll ask it anyway."

"Why did you ask me to go shopping with you?"

She sighed, folding another sweater over her arm. "I really just needed to spend time with a guy. A friend."

"Why _me_, though?" he asked pointedly. "You and I both know that Kurt would be so much better at helping you pick out clothes. And you don't know me that well."

She sighed, pressing a knuckle to her forehead. "I screwed up," she said, softly.

And there was gentle Quinn, the side of her that he'd only ever heard about and never really seen. Her face was somehow softer, less angular. Her eyes were sad.

He steered her over to a bench against the wall, sitting down beside her. "What happened?"

"I broke it off with Sam," she said, quietly. "Because I'm stupid, and I couldn't see what was right in front of me and I thought I didn't- anyway, it's over, and I sort of regret it but it doesn't matter anymore."

"I'm still not seeing where I come in," Blaine said, very gently.

"I messed with Finn," Quinn whispered. "I messed with his head, and by doing that I messed with Rachel, and I messed up anything they could have had together. And I feel awful about it." She looked up, and Blaine could see a tear clinging to the corner of one eye. "Do you see why I _couldn't_ tell Kurt?"

He saw. Kurt and Rachel had their ups and downs, of course, and Kurt and Finn had their history, too, but in the end Kurt was closer to both of them than he was to Quinn. He wouldn't take Quinn's side. He wouldn't even try to see Quinn's side of the story.

"Tell me what you did and why, and we'll try to fix this," Blaine said patiently, sliding a comforting arm around her shoulder and settling them back against the wall.

**A/N: Ehh. Filler chapter right therr. **

**okay cool. **

**WHO ELSE IS STILL FLAILING?**

**Not me... that would be ridiculous...**


	21. Slushies and Fragile Bones

**A/N: What? Is? This? I don't actually know. Here's more Jane for you to love/hate/feel indifferent towards.**

**OH YEAH I'M STILL FLAILING ABOUT KLAINE HOW DID YOU GUESS?**

**And I think someone asked if they could print this out while the internet is down? FEEL FREE. Just don't... I don't know, show it to Darren or Chris or something. That could get awkward.**

**Disclaimer: *sigh* getting so old, but I DON'T OWN KLAINE OR GLEE.**

"And how was spending time with Quinn?" Kurt asked, holding out his hand for Blaine to take.

"Actually- really nice. I like her much more than I thought I would," Blaine said, taking the offered hand. "She's snarky."

"Always fun," Kurt said, in a lighthearted sort of tone as they neared his locker. Blaine leaned against the locker beside Kurt's, tracing Kurt's hand with his pointer finger while Kurt pulled a book out of his locker. "Puck's having a party this weekend while his mom and sister are out of town, if you want to come."

"Love to." Blaine smiled. "Is this... an alcohol sort of party?"

Kurt snorted. "Probably, knowing Puck. I'm not going to drink, though. I've had some bad experiences with it. Why?" He shut his locker and turned to face Blaine.

"I'm a bit of a cuddleslut when I'm drunk," Blaine admitted. "Just keep a close eye on me."

"You're cute," Kurt said, grinning, and Blaine leaned in for a kiss. It was at that moment that a jock walked by, flicking his wrist. Orange slushie flew from his cup in a perfect arc, sloshing all over both of them.

Kurt swore.

Blaine wasn't even capable of words. When Kurt had described slushie-ing to him, he'd been sympathetic, but he hadn't anticipated it _feeling_ like this. Because _goddamn_ it was so cold and wet, and somehow _hard_, so it actually really hurt, too. The corn syrup was seeping into his eyes, making them burn. And it was _orange_, which was not only quite literally the most hideous color in existance, but also tasted like cough medicine. He spat on the floor in disgust, which wasn't exactly polite or attractive, but he was beyond caring.

The jock was still standing there, eying them, and something bubbled hot and furious in Blaine. He grabbed Kurt by his slushie-soaked collar and dragged him in, locking their lips together in a very messy kiss, licking his way pointedly up Kurt's cheek.

Kurt pulled back, yelping. "What the hell, Blaine?"

And great, now his boyfriend was mad at him, and where the hell was their brute squad, anyway?

As if on cue, Puck came running around the corner (which was new- Blaine had never seen Puck in a panic before).

The jock shot one last look of open disgust (and something else- there was something else in his gaze, too) at them, before taking off.

"KAROFSKY!" Puck bellowed, trying to follow him. He was blocked by a tall, blond-haired woman in a dark green track suit.

Blaine's mind was whirling. _That was Karofsky_? He'd barely recognized the boy- he'd only met him once before, when he'd confronted the bully back in November with Kurt.

Puck looked up into the woman's face and almost fell to his knees. "_Please_, Coach Sylvester, let me go kick his ass."

She stared at him a moment, her face impassive, then slowly nodded. "Go," she said, and he sprinted past her.

Coach Sylvester turned to them. "Porcelain?"

"I'm fine," Kurt said, through gritted teeth. "I'd forgotten how cold these were."

She jerked her head to the bathroom door. "You and the munchkin get cleaned up. I'll stand guard out here. Nobody gets past Sue Sylvester."

"Thank you," Kurt said quietly, reaching into his locker to pull out a bag of extra clothes, then dragging Blaine into the bathroom by the wrist.

"Put your head under the faucet when the water gets warm," Kurt instructed, turning both taps on.

Blaine stuck his head under, closing his eyes. "You're mad at me."

"And what would make you think that?" Kurt asked, sarcastically.

"This isn't _fair_, Kurt."

"Of course it isn't _fair_," Kurt said bitterly, running his fingers through Blaine's hair to pick out chunks of ice. "It'll never be _fair_ for us. We live in their world. But we can't rub it in all of their faces. We were naive to think we could and get away with it."

Blaine pulled back from the spray, wiping off his eyes quickly. "Why? Why can't we act like every other couple at this school? Why can't I be _proud_ to show you off as my boyfriend?"

"Because this school doesn't _work_ like that, Blaine!" Kurt snapped, handing him a towel from his bag. "You can't passive-aggressively antagonize the jocks by shoving 'gay' into their faces. You have to keep under the radar. It's the only way to avoid being a target."

"And being in glee club definitely does that," Blaine bit back. "I thought you were proud of who you were."

"Being in glee club ensures I have people who will have my back," Kurt said, "and people who will have your back. Why can't you just be happy about being the first out gay couple at this school and leave it at that?"

"Because I _can't_," Blaine said, furiously. "I came here to _be _with you, and to _face_ the bullies! To stop running away!"

"And you are!"

"No, I'm not! I love you, Kurt. Why isn't that enough? Why can't we just say 'screw the homophobes'?"

"Because they outnumber us, Blaine!" Kurt sat down on the edge of one of the sinks with a heavy sigh. "One day, we'll both be out of here. But until then, we just have to survive."

"I don't want to just _survive, _Kurt," Blaine said, ripping a paper towel out of the dispenser and using it to gently wipe a stubborn drop of orange dye off Kurt's face. He swiped his thumb over the same spot, then kissed it gently. Kurt's skin still tasted faintly of oranges. "I want to walk down the hall holding hands with you. Is that too much to ask?"

"No," Kurt said softly, wrapping his arms around Blaine's waist and pulling him between his legs- sitting like this, Kurt was the shorter one for once. He rested his face against Blaine's stomach, sighing heavily. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Blaine said, rubbing the towel over Kurt's soaked hair. "Is it such a crime that I want the world to know?"

"It is if the world doesn't want to know," Kurt said quietly.

"One slushie doesn't make or break us, Kurt," Blaine said, rubbing up and down Kurt's arms. "We're going to face homophobes and ignorant people no matter where we go. Our strength and our ability to not _give_ a damn is what makes us rise above them."

"Why are you so confidant?" Kurt asked, tipping his head back to look up at Blaine.

Blaine shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Because I have you."

"Cheesy, cheesy." Kurt sighed. "You're lucky you're cute." His nose nudged against the fabric of Blaine's shirt, just over his belly button.

"Give me a kiss," Blaine insisted, puckering his lips in an over-exaggerated way, trying to pull Kurt up.

"I hate the taste of oranges," Kurt grumbled, but complied.

xxxxx

In Glee later on, Puck dropped into the seat beside Blaine. "Got Karofsky," he said, with a self-satisfied smirk.

Blaine blinked a few times. "Thank you."

"It should take him a while to get out of the port-o-potty. I put a broom through the door handle."

"You locked him in a _port-o-potty_?" Kurt asked, leaning over Blaine to stare at Puck. "He's twice your size!"

"I have my methods," Puck said, cracking his knuckles threateningly. "Either way, he won't be bothering you again any time soon."

"Much appreciated, Puckerman, thank you," Blaine said, then held out his hand, curled into an unsure sort of fist.

Puck's face broke into a smile, and he tapped his fist against Blaine's appreciatively.

Mercedes took the seat on Kurt's other side. "This is _not_ okay," she said, angrily. "You took care of Karofsky, but there are about twenty other guys on that team, and about five of them are okay with Kurt and Blaine. And all five of them are sitting in this room. What about the others? That's fifteen other slushies lurking the hallways."

"We slacked off," Sam said, fiercely. "We let our guard down too much. It won't happen again."

"No," Kurt said, and everyone, including Blaine, turned to look at him in surprise. "You can't all keep doing this. I transferred back here because life doesn't come with a no-harassment policy. Well, life doesn't come with bodyguards, either."

"Kurt, this is serious," Rachel whispered. "You could get really hurt."

"No," Kurt said, shortly. "I can't. We can't. Not with Coach Sylvester patrolling the halls. She may not be able to stop the slushies, but she's stopped the locker-checks and dumpster tosses. Humiliated? Yes, frequently. Hurt? No."

"Kurt, it's not a problem. We _want_ to help," Tina insisted, and Mike nodded vigorously from beside her.

"This is my hill to climb," Kurt said, firmly.

"You can't climb it alone, Kurt," Quinn said, a disbelieving sort of laugh coloring her voice.

"I'm not alone," Kurt said, and Blaine felt Kurt's fingers wrap around his. "I've got him with me."

"Speaking of cheesy," Blaine muttered.

They all looked at the two of them for a long while. Puck finally sighed.

"I can respect that."

Quinn looked at him like he was insane.

"I'm with Puck on this one," Sam said, looking around the group. "They want to defend themselves- that's reasonable."

Finn still looked uneasy. "You have to _promise_ to tell us if any of them get physical."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "That's not going to happen, but fine. I promise."

Puck slapped Blaine's shoulder again, and the rest of the group fell into their own conversations, without the two boys.

Kurt caught Blaine's eyes. "Okay?" he asked, quietly.

There was something hard sticking in Blaine's throat. "You really don't mind getting a slushie in the face every single day?"

"As long as you promise to clean me off afterward," Kurt whispered, already leaning in for a kiss. Blaine kept in mind that Kurt most likely didn't mean that the way Blaine had taken it as he met him halfway. Finn made a choked noise in front of them.

Kurt pushed his chair sideways so it faced Blaine's, then leaned back in it. Before Blaine could ask him what he was doing, he propped his feet up on Blaine's lap, crossing his legs at the ankles. His pants rode up a little, exposing thin stripes of skin just above his Valenci slides.

Blaine's hands automatically went to Kurt's ankles, rubbing his thumbs over the exposed skin. He watched as Kurt's eyes fell shut and his breathing grew a little shallower.

"Ankles, huh?" Blaine murmured, low enough that only Kurt would hear.

Kurt cracked an eyelid and smiled lazily at him. "Shut up," he said, his voice slightly breathier than usual. "It feels good."

"That's obvious," Blaine teased.

Eventually, Mr. Schue showed up, slapping his briefcase on the piano before giving them his usual introductory spiel and assigning them something Blaine was surprised to find they'd never been assigned before- Broadway.

"Find a Broadway song that appeals to _you_," Mr. Schue said, underlining the word on the whiteboard. "We need to get back to the roots of glee club, and that's what Broadway is. Now, I know some of you aren't exactly the Broadway type-" Blaine caught the skeptical look on Puck's face, "-but that's an important part of this lesson. You won't always get to sing what you want to sing. But you have to put yourself into it anyway, and put _emotion_ into it. Make it believable. You can make this a solo, a duet, a group of people. Whatever you want; just come back with a Broadway number."

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other.

"Duet partners?" Blaine asked, eagerly. "There are so many good duets for us."

"I can think of three off the top of my head," Kurt said happily, linking his fingers together on his lap.

"It's too bad Moulin Rouge never made it onto the stage," Blaine mused. "We could _kill_ 'Come What May'."

"We _could_," Kurt said, his leg twitching a little. "There's always 'As Long As You're Mine', though."

Blaine glanced around the room. Almost everyone seemed to be going solo on this one, except Tina and Mike, and the two of them.

"No way can we do 'As Long As You're Mine'," he said, gesturing to Rachel, who was rifling through a 'Wicked' songbook. "You know she's going to do something from that. Or Evita."

"We'll figure something out," Kurt said, leaning forward to squeeze Blaine's hand.

"So I have a request, and I'm sorry it's such short notice," Blaine said as they left the choir room, clasped hands swinging between them.

"Go ahead." Kurt bumped their shoulders together playfully.

"I'm moving to Columbus tonight- my parents came back from Florida." His eyes searched Kurt's face anxiously.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And the request is...?"

"My parents want you to come over for dinner tomorrow night," he said, quickly. "They want to meet you. As my boyfriend."

"Is Jane going to be there?" he asked.

Blaine looked confused. "Of course she is, she lives there. Why? I was under the impression you two got along."

"Oh, we do," Kurt assured him. "I'm just a little upset with her after she asked me not to act like your boyfriend around her."

"She asked you to do that?" Blaine's mouth curled downwards.

"I told her under no circumstances."

Blaine sighed, shaking his head. "You are something else."

"What?" Kurt asked, tilting his head with a slightly confused smile.

"So we can act like a couple in front of my bully, but not yours?" Blaine asked quietly.

Kurt's mouth dropped open. "Oh god- Blaine- I-" he halted. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Blaine said, waving his hand a little. "Just. Equal treatment, you know? If you get to treat me like your boyfriend in front of Jane, I get to treat you like _my_ boyfriend in front of Karofsky."

Kurt eyed him for a moment. "Deal," he said, squeezing their still-clasped hands, in lieu of a handshake.

xxxxx

He actually sort of started to panic the next day, standing in front of his open closet, because what the hell was he supposed to _wear_?

He almost always knew exactly how to dress. He prided himself on his ability to spot trends in fashion, and he knew exactly what styles made him look good and what styles made his pear hips even more prominent.

But he'd never been in _this_ situation before. The "have-dinner-with-the-parents-you've-already-met-but-this-time-as-the-boyfriend" kind of dinner. And he was sort of hyperventilating a little bit.

He was lying facedown on his mattress, screaming out his frustration, when there was a light tap on his door.

"Go away, Finn," he said, his voice muffled by the blankets.

"It appears you need help," said a voice that was definitely _not_ Finn's. He rolled over and sat up.

Quinn stood in the doorway, flanked by Mercedes and Tina and Rachel, all of them with their arms folded.

"Rachel is _not_ helping me with a clothing crisis," Kurt said immediately, causing the tiny girl to huff and roll her eyes.

"We came to help," Quinn said, kindly. "We've all done the 'meet the parents'. We can help."

"Why do you want to help me?" Kurt asked, eying her suspiciously. "You only ever help when you want something."

She shrugged. "We love you and we like Blaine. We want both of you to be happy. Now."

She stepped into his closet, and Mercedes sat down beside him on the bed, taking his hand in both of hers and smiling at him sweetly. Tina followed Quinn into Kurt's closet.

"Wear this." Quinn threw slim black dress pants and a fitted blue jacket at him, along with a black oxford and off-white tie with a faint pattern imprinted on it. "Pair these with those black wing-tips you have, and you've got an outfit."

Kurt eyed the outfit, mentally adding a brooch and pocket watch chain, then looked up at her in relief. "You just saved my life."

"Get dressed," she replied, a proud sort of smile flitting briefly across her face.

The girls walked him to the car, and he spent most of the ride singing various Bob Marley songs to himself to keep his nerves in check.

They returned immediately, increasing tenfold, when he pulled into the driveway of the Andersons' house, an hour and a half later. Their house was huge- intimidating- and he had to remind himself that he'd already met and loved Blaine's parents, and they'd loved him in return.

Still, he felt as if he might throw up.

He swallowed hard, and knocked on the door. Seconds later, he noticed the doorbell (whose idea was it to have a doorbell that blended in with the rest of the house, anyway?) and rang that, too.

Heartbeats later, Blaine pulled the door open.

For a moment they just stood there, staring at each other, until Blaine leaned forward and kissed him, soft and lingering. He smiled as they leaned back. "You look incredible."

"Thank Quinn," he replied, taking his boyfriend's hand. "What's for dinner?"

"Honestly couldn't tell you," Blaine said, rubbing his thumb over Kurt's knuckles. "I asked about five times and each time I forgot to listen to the answer. Too nervous."

"_You're_ nervous?" Kurt asked, shrilly.

Blaine shook his head, smiling. "You'll be great. They already love you."

"Is that Kurt?" Wendy's voice called from the kitchen.

"Here we go," Blaine whispered, tensely.

Wendy appeared around the corner, a bright smile on her petite face. She seemed to bounce as she moved forward to hug Kurt. She slid a hand under his chin to tilt his face to the side. "Oh, honey. It feels like it's been so long."

"Only two months, Mrs. Anderson," he said, politely. He'd been told to call her Wendy before, but it seemed wrong now that he was dating her son.

"_Wendy_," she reminded him. "I love your outfit. Vintage Ralph Lauren, am I right?"

He felt his tensed shoulder relax. He'd forgotten just how much he genuinely _liked_ Blaine's mother.

"That's right," he said, slipping his arm through hers, and following her into the kitchen.

It was big, like the hall had been, but infinitely more comforting. It had a homier feel to it- the walls were painted a deep red and the counter tops were dark granite. A familiar cushion sat in the corner of the room, but it was vacated, devoid of its usual occupant.

"What's for dinner?" Blaine asked.

"Beef stew," both Anderson parents said, in the exasperated sort of tone that implied it wasn't the first or even second time they'd been asked that question.

Blaine smiled sheepishly. "Right."

"Jane!" Wendy called up the twisting staircase. "It's dinner; Kurt's here. Careful coming down the stairs."

"Can I help with something?" Kurt asked as Blaine released his hand to pull glasses out of one of the cupboards.

"Oh, no, dear, the table is all set except for drinks," Wendy said airily, piling her hair on the top of her head to tie into a haphazardly messy bun.

Jane made her way down the stairs slowly, dressed in a yellow sundress that was probably designed for children much younger than her sixteen years, and it still sagged a little on her petite frame. Her eyes stayed locker on Kurt as she walked.

He stepped forward to greet her.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm still struggling, but I was really rude to you. I can't pretend I'm not uncomfortable, but there was no excuse for me to say that."

"I appreciate your apology," he said.

She smiled hesitantly at Blaine, who simply stared back, though his gaze was softer than it had been.

They sat down at the table, Blaine taking the seat next to Kurt, and Peter began to dish out the stew.

"Blaine tells me you two are doing a duet together," Wendy said, picking up her spoon. "Broadway, he said? Have you two decided on a song yet?"

"Not quite." His elbow brushed the table, and his napkin fluttered to the ground. He looked at Blaine helplessly.

"Leave it," Blaine whispered, taking another one from the woven basket in the center of the table and handing it to him.

"Any ideas?" Peter asked.

"_Blaine_ wants to do 'A Little Priest'," Kurt said, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

"It's a great duet!" Blaine said defensively.

"It's about _cannibalism_, Blaine," Kurt said.

Wendy laughed. "What are your ideas for it, Kurt?"

"I want to do 'I'll Cover You'," Kurt admitted. "From Rent."

Blaine looked taken aback. "You never said that."

"Never had the chance," Kurt said, archly. "You were too busy waxing poetic about duets from Sweeney Todd."

"I could handle 'I'll Cover You'," Blaine said. "It's a little low for our range, but we could change the key a little bit."

It was worth sacrificing a Sweeney Todd duet to see the smile that lit up Kurt's face like sunshine. They grinned at each other for a minute until Wendy cleared her throat gently.

Jane was staring down at the table, looking uncomfortable. "I need more water," she said quietly, standing up.

It was like Kurt could see it a split-second before it actually happened. "Don't-" he started to warn, but Jane was already out of her seat and it was too late.

The heel of Jane's foot came down on his dropped napkin, the thin paper slid against the hardwood floor, and Jane went down, hard.

Everyone in the room heard the crack of bone breaking. Jane's eyes flashed up to the table- Kurt realized with a shock that the whites of her eyes were suddenly a stunningly bright shade of electric blue.

Blaine was the first one out of his seat. He crouched beside Jane, not touching her, just examining. "Where?" he asked.

She was lying on her back; her face was calm, her demeanor unhurried. "Somewhere around my hips or my tailbone, I think," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "I can't be sure, though."

Wendy was already on the phone with the hospital, her voice a low murmur in the background.

Kurt sat there, unmoving, staring at Jane. Her eyes were _blue_. Not the pale blueish tinge the whites had had back in Florida, the last they'd talked face-to-face, but a fierce, angry blue- almost the same color as Kurt's jacket. Her hip was jutting out from her body at an abnormal angle. Her _face_, though- it was impassive.

"Get him out of here, Blaine," Jane said, still gazing at Kurt.

"What?" Blaine turned his head to look over his shoulder. Kurt wanted to shift his eyes to Blaine, to smile comfortingly at him. Actually, he wanted to shift his eyes to anything else, but they wouldn't move. He felt stuck.

"Blaine, I'll be fine, it's nothing I haven't been through before. But you need to get Kurt out of here before he goes into shock."

Casting one final, worried glance at Jane, Blaine stood up, sliding his arm around Kurt's shoulder and under his knees, and picking him up as if he weighed little more than a sack of feathers.

He took the stairs two at a time, nudging open a door with his shoulder before striding in a lowering Kurt gently onto a soft surface, stepping back. "Are you okay?"

Kurt found his voice. "Where are we?"

"My room. Answer the question."

"I'm- fine, I guess. I just- her eyes turned _blue_, Blaine."

"Side effect of Osteogenesis Imperfecta," Blaine said, taking Kurt's hands in his and crouching down in front of the boy. "Her sclera turn blue when she has a really bad break."

"That was a really bad break?" Kurt whispered. "She didn't even seen in _pain_."

"She's used to pain," Blaine said, quietly. "She's had some pretty bad breaks before."

"It was my fault," Kurt's voice broke. "She slipped on the napkin I dropped."

"Kurt, _no_." Blaine shook his head emphatically, squeezing Kurt's hands together. "Don't even think about saying that, I should have picked up that napkin after getting you a new one, it was stupid of me. I've spent so long _not_ living with Jane that I forgot what living with her was like, what the rules were. That's not your responsibility, it's mine."

"Is she really hurt?"

"Yes, but she'll be okay. They'll cast her up."

"I'm so sorry." He gazed at his knees.

Blaine slid up onto the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pressing his cheek into Kurt's hair. "It's _okay_, Kurt."

They stayed like that for a long while until the phone rang shrilly, too-loud in the silent house. Blaine stood slowly, keeping eye contact with Kurt. "I'm going to go get that, okay? I'll be right back."

"No," Kurt said, latching onto Blaine's hand. "I'm coming with you."

Blaine caught the phone on the last ring, picking it up before the answering machine could kick in. "Hello?"

"Honey?" it was his mom. "Look, we're going to be with Jane overnight. Do you think Kurt's dad would be okay with you staying over there?"

"I can ask," Blaine said. "I can't stay home alone?"

"I don't think I'm quite comfortable with you being alone in the house," his mom said, carefully. "Ask and call me back, okay?"

"Love you."

"Love you too."

He hung up the phone slowly, turning to Kurt. Kurt already had his cell phone out and to his ear. "I could hear it," he explained quietly. "The speaker was loud. Dad?"

"Everything okay?" Blaine heard Burt ask.

"Not exactly." Kurt hesitated. "Dad, I told you how Blaine's twin has Osteogenesis Imperfecta."

"Yeah. The one where her bones break easy."

"Yes. Well- she slipped, tonight, and she suffered a pretty bad break. Her parents are with her in the hospital now."

Burt whistled low. "Tell him I'm really sorry, kid."

"So he's alone in his house, Dad." Kurt shot a quick look at Blaine. "And his mom wanted to know if he could stay with us for tonight."

There was a long silence. Then- "he gets the couch."

Once Blaine let his mom in on the plans, Kurt got his coat and keys from the front hall.

"I'm driving," Blaine said.

Kurt crossed his arms defensively, clutching the keys in his hand. "What?"

"You're still in shock. You shouldn't be driving," Blaine said, prising the keys gently out of Kurt's hand. "Don't worry. I'm a careful driver."

"I know," Kurt sighed, relinquishing the keys to Blaine.

Blaine drove one-handed, keeping his other hand tightly clenched with Kurt's. He glanced at him every couple seconds, wishing he could look at him more- make sure he was okay.

Carole greeted them at the door, reaching out for both of them. She pressed a hand to Blaine's cheek. "Honey, are you okay?"

"_I'm_ fine," Blaine said, placing careful emphasis on the pronoun.

Carole's gaze moved to Kurt; her eyes raked over him for a few moments, then she nodded. "You need tea."

"I hate tea," Kurt said, but followed them inside.

Carole put the kettle on and pulled out mugs and tea bags, then disappeared up the stairs after a final ruffle of Kurt's hair. Blaine sat beside Kurt, keeping their hands linked together in silence.

When the kettle began to whistle, Blaine prepared their tea, then moved their mugs to a tray. He motioned for Kurt to follow him into the living room, where he set the tray down on the tea table.

The couch was already made up with blankets and a pillow- a clear message from Burt. _The boyfriend sleeps here_.

Blaine untucked one of the blankets from the couch and wrapped it around both of them, bundling them together.

"I don't know why it bothers me so much," Kurt said, finally. "I mean, it doesn't remind me of how my mom died, or anything."

"It bothers a lot of people a lot more than they'd think it would," Blaine said, comfortingly. "I mean, it's unusual in many ways. It disquiets the brain."

"I guess." Kurt's voice was small.

"Can I ask how your mom died?" Blaine asked softly. "I know you don't like to talk about it. But maybe it could help you to."

Kurt sighed, barely a whisper. "It was two things, really. That was the worst part."

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, quietly.

"She was already sick," Kurt said. "She was heading into the hospital for more testing when- she got in a car crash." He pressed the heel of his palm to his eyes. "The people in the other car- they were injured, but okay. But my mom-" he stopped, and smiled a pained smile at Blaine. "It's kind of... ironic, right? The opposite of what you'd expect? She had cancer, but she died in a car crash."

"I'm so sad for you, Kurt," Blaine said, his arm wrapping around his boyfriend.

Kurt leaned his head against Blaine's, considering that- because it was new. For half of his life, he'd heard "I'm sorry" when people learned about his mom. Nobody had ever said "I'm sad for you"- and yet, it was far more genuine than any apology could be, because it was true. Why should anyone be _sorry_? It wasn't their fault his mom was dead. Being sad for him rang of something far more genuine than an apology.

"Thank you," he said, and let Blaine hold him for a little longer.

xxxxx

When Burt came downstairs the next morning, the first thing he noticed was that Blaine wasn't alone in the living room. The two boys were wrapped up in each other, laying across the couch, cuddled together under the blankets. Their faces were peaceful, but Burt could see the dried tear tracks running down Kurt's cheeks, leaving behind a salty residue.

He could've been mad, but he wasn't. Nothing had gone down on that couch (1), he was sure of it. And for once, his kid was sleeping with a smile on his face.

**A/N: (1) But something _did_ go down in the tent, you can be sure of that. **


	22. Hair and Surprise Visits

**A/N: So I wrote a barista fic (oneshot), in case you guys missed it :D It's posted here, called "Through the Eyes of the Observer" (I've never been good at titles, as you can see). So yes. That.**

**RIKER AND CURT TROLL TUMBLR SO HARD.**

**Um, has anyone listened to "Somewhere Only We Know"? That's always been one of my favorite songs, and I actually screamed when I found out that they'd be doing it on Glee, and that it would be _Blaine_ singing it. And then when I actually listened to it...**

**I think I burst into tears, and got sent to bed by my roommate, who thought I was drunk (I wasn't, by the way- just sleepwalking (Darren references and double parentheses ftw)). But really, Darren, his voice- _he moves me_.**

**I am _so_ sorry this has taken so long to get up. I've been so ridiculously busy it isn't funny. **

**Oh, by the way, I'm _still _not over the kiss.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

They were woken in time for school by Burt, who had an unreadable look on his face. "Time to get up, if you want time for both of you to take showers."

He said nothing to Blaine, which sort of concerned the boy, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Sleepy Kurt, as always, was adorable, except _this_ time (unlike the last time he'd seen Kurt like this), he was _allowed_ to stroke a hand over Kurt's cheek, and press a quick kiss to the top of his head, admiring his sleep-ruffled hair.

Kurt grinned sweetly (which was just about the cutest thing Blaine had ever seen) and yawned. "I like waking up next to you."

And that statement, that hinted at something that neither of them were quite ready to say, did strange things to Blaine's heart rate.

"Go ahead and take the first shower," Blaine said, already rifling through his hastily-packed duffel bag for his towel and change of clothes.

"There's another bathroom down here," Kurt offered. "I mean, we'd have to share the hot water if we're both taking showers, so the water won't be quite as warm. But we'll have more time."

Blaine's throat felt like the desert. "Sounds good to me."

Kurt showed him where the bathroom was, how to turn on the faucet, then left him to it. He slowly undressed, his throat going even drier as he heard the water turn on a floor above him. Directly above him.

He stepped into the shower stall, resolutely _not_ thinking about the three feet of cement, plaster, and wood that separated him from Kurt. He ran the soap over himself, resolutely _not_ thinking about Kurt doing the same thing, a floor above him.

He found that thinking of the fact that Burt was two rooms over generally worked to kill any thoughts headed in _that_ direction.

He dressed quickly, not spending much time looking in the mirror- he generally found too much wrong with himself when he did.

And then came the difficult part. His hair.

In his hurry, he'd left his gel at home.

He couldn't leave it the way it was; it was a _mess_. There were curls spiraling every which-way, springing out from his head at strange angles.

There was a knock on the door. "Blaine? Are you ready for breakfast?"

How the _hell_ had Kurt gotten ready so fast?

"Only a minor disaster," Blaine said, still staring at his hair in the mirror. "Do you have any hair product?"

"Of course I do," Kurt said, sounding offended that Blaine would even ask such a ridiculous question.

"Gel?"

"Can I come in?" Kurt asked impatiently.

Blaine hesitated for a second, then unlatched the door and stepped aside to let Kurt into the bathroom.

"Oh, wow," Kurt murmured, his eyes fixed on Blaine's hair as he stepped inside the room.

"I know," Blaine groaned, reaching a hand up to tug on it miserably. "I forgot my gel. And I even usually have a backup tube in my backpack, just in case, and I meant to replace it..."

"You are not permitted to gel your hair any more," Kurt informed him. "You may use a small amount of product, pre-approved by me."

"What are you-"

Blaine's question was cut off by Kurt winding his hands into Blaine's hair and yanking him in for a quick, hard kiss.

"I like your hair," Kurt said firmly, his hands still tangled in the curls. "So let me help you control the frizz, and then it will be perfect."

Blaine sighed, then bowed his head. "Do what you will."

Kurt laughed, brushing a hand through his curls. "You make it sound like I'm going to torture you."

"Aren't you, though?" Blaine teased, giving him a soft smile.

Kurt rolled his eyes, sitting him down in a chair in front of the mirror. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle, showing it to Blaine. "This is _really _nice leave-inconditioner," he said. "It has anti-frizz serum in it to keep your hair silky. You can keep it. I have too much of it anyway." He sprayed a little on Blaine's head, then began to run his fingers through Blaine's hair and rub them against his scalp.

Blaine tipped his head back, fighting off the ridiculous urge to _moan_ as Kurt's fingers dug into his head, massaging in the conditioner.

"See? Perfect," Kurt said proudly, stepping back and allowing Blaine to examine his hair in the mirror. It looked far better than before, that much was true. The frizz was gone, leaving behind a dark, glossy sheen instead.

"Babe, you are _amazing_," Blaine said, leaning forward to run a hand through his hair, still staring in the mirror. He saw Kurt's reflection stumble back a little behind him. "Are you okay?"

"Babe?" Kurt asked, in a higher-pitched voice than usual.

He caught Kurt's hand, holding it to the side of his neck. "Only if it makes you blush like that. You're adorable when you blush, you know that?"

"Adorable seems to be your go-to word when it comes to me," Kurt mused, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

"That's because you _are_ adorable," Blaine told him, spinning around in his chair to tap Kurt on the nose. "Now. You said something about breakfast?"

"Dad made bacon," Kurt said, rolling his eyes at the way Blaine's face lit up. "I already told him none for him, but he insisted on making it for you. I think he likes you."

"Baaaaacon," Blaine replied, darting out of the bathroom.

"Heart attack waiting to happen," Kurt countered, following him into the kitchen, where Burt stood at the stove, frying pan in hand.

Finn was standing at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his eyes blearily. "Bacon?" he asked.

"It's like a dog whistle, but for teenage boys," Kurt said, sitting down at the kitchen table beside his boyfriend.

"Then why doesn't it affect you?" Blaine asked, pinching his thigh affectionately.

Kurt yelped and swatted him. "I am immune because I am _refined_."

Blaine shook his head woefully at Kurt as a plate of bacon and eggs was set down on the table in front of him. "You're missing out."

"I'll also live ten years longer," he returned, standing up to take his slices of whole-wheat toast out of the toaster, and covering them with scrambled egg whites.

"You'll never convince me to eat healthy food."

"I'll never stop trying."

It was sort of precious, the way Blaine stuck his tongue out at Kurt.

The two of them passed up Finn's offer to drive them to school, preferring instead to drive in Kurt's car together, sitting in comfortable silence, their hands tangled together on the gearshift between them.

Blaine's phone rang a few minutes into the short drive, and he answered it on the first buzz. Kurt glanced away from the road for a second to look at him questioningly.

"Hi, mom," he said.

"We might not be able to all be together at home for a few days," his mom said. "They're still working on Jane- she fractured a couple bones in her pelvis and they aren't sure if there are more they're just missing. Dad and I can alternate coming home every night-"

"No," Blaine interrupted. "No, stay with Jane. I'll find a place to stay again, whether it's with Sam or Kurt."

"You're sure?" his mother asked hesitantly, though there was a note of relief in her voice.

"Positive. Jane needs you more than I do."

And wouldn't that always be the truth? Jane had always needed them- _would_ always need them- more than Blaine did or would. In a way, the reality of that made Blaine grow up faster, and grow up as a more independent person. But the reality of it also made him cling to Kurt more, because he needed _someone_ who would be there.

They said their goodbyes and hung up as Kurt pulled into the student parking lot.

"Everything okay?" Kurt asked as he cut the ignition.

"You probably heard that I need a place to stay for a few nights," he said, gesturing to his phone.

"I'll talk my dad into it," Kurt replied, opening his car door and disentangling his hand from Blaine's.

Blaine sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for his car door, but Kurt got there first. He opened the door, holding his hand out for Blaine to take.

"I can be a gentleman, too," Kurt said defensively at Blaine's raised eyebrow.

Blaine laughed, his neck turning a little pink as he ducked his head. "I- I kind of like it."

Kurt eyed the delicious way the blush crept up Blaine's face and down under his collar, the way his long eyelashes fanned shyly against his cheekbones, and tucked that little piece of information away into his mind for later.

Puck and Finn met them halfway across the parking lot, flanking them as usual.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "I thought I said-"

"You did," Puck interrupted. "And I said I could respect that. But Coach Sylvester can't patrol the parking lot. And it could actually get violent out here."

Kurt's lips pursed. "Fine," he said, finally. "But could you at least _try_ not to look like you're members of the secret service?"

Both of them took off their sunglasses and put away their walkie-talkies, looking sheepish.

xxxxx

"Tomorrow's Friday," said Kurt casually as they walked out of Glee rehearsal hand-in-hand, having listened to Puck's surprising song choice- _It Takes Two_ from Hairspray- sung directly at Lauren.

"It is," Blaine replied, looking at little quizzically at Kurt, because Kurt had never been one to state obvious, well-known facts.

"Do you know we've never been on a date?" Kurt asked conversationally.

Blaine's brow furrowed. "Yes, we have. We've gone on them so many-"

"No, we haven't," Kurt interrupted. "You've bought me coffee, we've gone out to eat and gone to the movies and gone shopping together. But we've never been on an actual _date_."

Blaine opened his mouth to argue, but found that Kurt was right.

"I want to take you out tomorrow," Kurt said firmly, leaving no room for argument (not that Blaine would want to). "I want to take you out on a real date. Is there somewhere you'd like to go or something you'd like to do?"

Blaine shook his head. "I can't think of anything we haven't _done_ when we were just friends," he confessed.

"I don't want our first date to be Puck's party," Kurt said, his mouth twisting. "That's like a bad teen drama. And you want to go see Jane on Saturday before the party, right?"

"I don't know," Blaine said, honestly. "My feelings are a little mixed about the subject."

"I think you should," Kurt said, quietly. "She'll really want to see you."

"I don't know if I can," Blaine admitted. Kurt clasped his hand a bit tighter.

There was an unfamiliar car in Kurt's driveway when they pulled in. "Dad or Carole must be having someone over," Kurt said. Something about the car struck a familiar chord in Blaine's mind, but he wasn't quite sure what, so he said nothing.

The feeling intensified as they climbed the front steps and Kurt twisted the doorknob open.

Blaine could see the backs of two very familiar heads over the top of the couch as they stepped into the living room.

"Dad?" Kurt asked, uncertainly.

Wes was the first to turn around, a shit-eating grin on his face. "Hello, Blainey."

"Oh, dear lord," Blaine muttered.

"You haven't been texting either of us back to let us know what's been going on," David informed him, standing up beside Wes. "Wes had to text _Sam_ to ask what was going on, and he sent us here."

"Dad, _why_ did you let them in?" Kurt groaned, but there was a small smirk that was fighting to appear on his face. Burt held up his hands in a "don't-look-at-me" sort of way, the smile on his face matching the one on Kurt's.

"Oh my god, look, they're holding hands," Wes said excitedly, pointing to the space between the two boys. "David, this is way too adorable, I don't think I can handle it."

"Breathe deeply," David advised.

"Fondle your gavel," Blaine suggested. Wes shot him a dirty look. Burt cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Kurt, but we're going to have to take Blaine from you for a while," Wes said.

"We'd invite you, too," David added. "But it'd be a little awkward to interrogate Blaine about you with you there."

Kurt's ears may have turned a little pink, but Blaine's neck was flaming.

Burt looked rather amused.

"It's fine." Kurt waved a hand. "I need to talk to Dad anyway." He hesitated, then leaned forward to peck Blaine's cheek quickly, shooting a glance at his dad. Burt was looking away and whistling to himself.

"Have fun," Kurt said softly, releasing Blaine's hand.

"Oh, he will," Wes said, dragging Blaine from the house.

David followed, stealing five or six clementines out of the fruit bowl on the kitchen table on his way out the door.

Burt raised his eyebrows as the door clicked shut. "Those are your Dalton friends?"

"Don't judge me," Kurt sighed, throwing himself down on the couch. "You don't pick your friends."

"You said we had to talk?"

Kurt crossed his legs, straightening up. "Dad, Jane's break is pretty serious."

"She okay?" Burt asked, immediately.

"She should be fine, but she needs a couple more days in the hospital." He took a deep breath. "Dad, Blaine's parents need to stay with her. Blaine needs a place to stay for a few days."

"Okay," Burt said, simply.

Kurt blinked rapidly. "Okay?"

Burt shrugged. "Okay."

"It's only for a couple of days," Kurt was quick to add. "And-"

"He stays in the guest room, though," Burt interrupted. "And none of that business like last night, when you stayed on the couch with him. I didn't call you out on it because I knew you were both having a tough time, but I don't think it's fair to let you and Blaine have a sleepover if Carole and I wouldn't let Finn and whatever girl he's dating have one."

Kurt opened his mouth to protest, then seemed to think about it. "That seems fair."

"I'm trying, Kurt," his dad said, seriously, meeting his eyes. "I don't know how to handle any of this most of the time, but I'm trying."

"I appreciate that, Dad," Kurt said, quietly.

"Blaine's a good kid," Burt said. "And I like how he treats you and how you treat him. You two do good by each other."

"I love him, Dad," Kurt said suddenly.

There was a moment's silence, then Burt's eyes crinkled up at the corners. "I know," he said. "You're lucky."

"I'm not naive," Kurt said, lifting one shoulder. "But I think Blaine and I... we could last, Dad."

"He's your best friend," Burt said. "I married my best friend in high school."

Kurt' cell phone chimed in his pocket. Burt nodded to it. "Let Blaine know that I said he can stay."

He patted Kurt's knee before standing up and heading into the kitchen.

Kurt pulled out his phone, sliding it open, fully expecting the text to be from Blaine.

**SANTANA: **I'm outside. If you're out in 5 I'll buy you a pair of shoes.

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "Dad, is it okay if I go out with Santana?" he called.

"Who's Santana?" Burt called back.

Did he really _never_ talk about her? "She's in Glee with me."

"Back by nine."

"Sure." he texted back quickly ("on my way out"), and slipped out the front door.

Santana put the car in gear the second he slid into the passenger's seat. She said nothing as they pulled out of the driveway.

He cleared his throat.

She spared a glance at him. "Can I help you, fancy?"

"Maybe you could begin with telling me what you're doing here?" Kurt asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Where's Dapper DeVito?" she asked instead, ignoring his query.

"Okay, he's not _that_ short," Kurt snapped. "Could you stop?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," Santana said softly. "You're a bitch, Hummel, but you get me."

"That's probably the reason _why_ I get you," Kurt pointed out, dryly.

"So, shopping?" Santana asked, taking the exit for the Lima mall.

"I don't have any money," Kurt admitted. "I blew everything I had on a McQueen blazer. Fabulous, but expensive. Blaine keeps offering to buy me clothes I like, but I hate that."

Santana rolled her eyes. "And that is why I have my daddy's AmEx."

Kurt's brow furrowed. "He doesn't care if you spend that?"

"I told him I was going shopping with a homo," Santana said, smirking. "He's just relieved you won't knock me up or give me the clap."

"Could you stop that?" Kurt asked, shortly. "You're at least half-gay, so could you please stop with all the gay jokes?"

"Habit, sorry," Santana said, at least looking a little apologetic.

"It's fine, just- stop, okay?"

Santana didn't say anything for a minute. "Where to first?"

"Gucci," Kurt said immediately, straightening the scarf around his neck. "We'll begin there, and you can talk."

xxxxx

"So is he a good kisser?" David asked, eagerly, and Blaine choked.

"What?"

"Is he a good kisser?" Wes repeated, raising his eyebrow. "Come on. You've been holding out on us. Juicy details, please."

"I don't think I'm comfortable sharing this information with you two," Blaine said uneasily.

"Well, that sucks for you, because we're your best friends and we want to know the dirt. So share, please."

"You really, really do not want to know," Blaine said firmly, cupping his hands around his coffee and not meeting their eyes.

"So that's either really, really good, or really, really bad," David mused, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm going to hazard a guess at really good."

"It's private, okay?" Blaine snapped. "Can we please talk about something else?"

Both of his friends' faces were shocked, an expression they didn't often wear, because Blaine didn't snap at them, ever. There was mock impatience, and good-natured eye-rolling, and "get-out-of-my-business-jesus-christ-and-get-your-own-lives", but never actual _anger_.

"What's going on?" Wes asked, dropping the grin in a second and sliding on the serious face Blaine recognized from Warblers meetings.

"Jane's in the hospital again," Blaine said, examining the minute divets in the wood table, to avoid looking at either of them.

"Is it bad?" David asked.

"It's not good," Blaine replied, hedging around the question. "I'm staying with Kurt, I think, at least for a couple days. Or Sam, if Mr. Hummel isn't okay with it."

"Your parents are with her?"

"She needs them," Blaine said defensively, warding off any accusations before they could come.

"I don't dispute that, Blaine," Wes said, leaning forward to touch his fingertips to the back of Blaine's hand. "I really don't. But don't you need them, too?"

"Much less than she does," Blaine said, taking a gulp of his coffee, and wow he hadn't meant for that to come out so bitterly, but there it was.

He _hated_ that look on Wes' face. The one he got when he was analyzing Blaine, when he was making sure that Blaine was okay.

"So how is Kurt?" David asked for a moment.

Blaine scowled, opening his mouth to reiterate- _"it's none of your business"_- when Wes headed him off. "We aren't asking for personal details about your love life, Blaine- we might not exactly understand why you want to keep it secret or private, but we can respect that you do. We're asking how your boyfriend is _doing_, after transferring back."

"We've been slushied once," Blaine said, and saw both boys' faces tighten in anger. "Really, it was only a matter of time. You can't be a gay couple in Lima, Ohio and walk around hand-in-hand without expecting a few idiots to make you pay for it."

"I don't give a _damn_ whether they think it's acceptable or not," Wes said, through gritted teeth. "If it's considered all right at Dalton, it should be considered all right at another high school less than two hours away."

"And why the hell are you so resigned about this?" David demanded. "_'It was only a matter of time'_? Weren't you going back to stop running away? To make a difference?"

"Kurt's done something," Blaine said. "We don't have a bodyguard squad any more."

"I'm going to tell you something, and don't take this the wrong way," David said, "but Kurt's always been ten times stronger than you."

"I _know_ he's the stronger one in this relationship," Blaine said. "It's always going to be that way. His backbone is made of steel. Mine is made of-"

"Jelly?" Wes suggested. Blaine shot him a glare.

"Not jelly," David corrected, gently. "Just something- less durable than steel. You've always lived in more of a fantasy world than Kurt has. You think that showing those bullies that you're in love with Kurt will make them back off, because they'll see how beautiful and important love is and how what you have is more real than most of the students and some of the _adults_ have in that school, am I right?"

"Get out of my head," Blaine said, pettishly.

"You two are going to be the ones to do it, you know," Wes said. "You're going to be the ones to change all of their minds."

xxxxx

When Wes and David dropped Blaine off in the Hudmel's driveway, Kurt's car was not in the garage. He'd sent Blaine a text about an hour previously, telling him that his dad had said it was okay for Blaine to stay with them, but he wasn't particularly looking forward to being alone in the house with Burt Hummel while they waited for Kurt to come home.

He was pretty sure Burt owned a shotgun.

He shouldn't have worried. When he knocked on the door, it was Finn who answered, a slice of pizza hanging out of his mouth. He shoved the rest of it in, trying to say something around his mouthful of food.

"Hey, kid," Burt greeted him from the couch. "Carole's cleaning out the guest room for you. We weren't really expecting a lot of guests, so we put the extra boxes from moving in that room. She'll be done in a couple minutes."

As if called, Carole appeared from the back hallway, crossing the room to plant a kiss on the top of Burt's head. "The room's all ready for you, Blaine."

"I don't know why you wouldn't just let me take care of those boxes," Burt grumbled as Blaine smiled gratefully, picking up his duffel bag from where he'd left it beside the couch to make his way down the hallway.

"You already overwork yourself at the garage, I'm not going to be the cause of another heart attack," he heard Carole murmur as she dropped onto the couch beside him.

The guest room was the first room on the right side, and it pretty much screamed Kurt (1). His boyfriend had obviously put his decorating efforts into the room, and it had paid off. The walls were a lovely shade of seafoam green, the bed a more modern-looking style; a matching seafoam-colored coach was pushed against a wall. Brick paneling across the wall behind the bed broke up the monotony of color.

He dropped his bag on the bed as he heard the front door slam, and Kurt's voice fill the hallway. He couldn't stop the stupid smile that spread across his face at the sound of his boyfriend's voice- a smile that only grew broader as the voice drew nearer.

Kurt appeared in the doorway, hesitating only for a moment before pitching forward to hug Blaine tightly.

"Hi," Blaine whispered, his heart thudding a little in his chest. He didn't think he'd _ever_ get used to holding Kurt.

"Hi," Kurt whispered back, pressing his lips briefly against Blaine's neck. "Dad and Carole want to know if you're ready for dinner now."

"Sounds awesome," Blaine said, letting go of Kurt a little reluctantly, but keeping his hand as they walked to the kitchen, where Finn was setting the table and grumbling about something or other. Blaine caught the word "Puck".

"What's he done now?" Kurt asked, his disinterest apparent in his voice as he pulled several glasses out of the fridge.

"Canceled his party," Finn said, throwing down a fork. "His mom doesn't want him having one at their house. She gets migraines."

Kurt pulled a displeased face, exchanging a look with Blaine.

"Why don't you have a party here?" Burt suggested.

They all looked at him, Carole included.

"I mean, what was the party for?" Burt asked.

The three boys looked at each other, panic evident on their faces, because this party was _for_ getting drunk and playing stupid games and having fun.

"Nationals," Kurt said, finally.

"Nationals?" Burt repeated.

"Yeah. Like, a pre-Nationals psych-up party," Finn said, enthusiastically, catching on. "We'll all sing and get psyched about Nationals and stuff."

"That sounds like a great idea," Carole said, pulling something off the stove. "Yeah. Why don't you have it here?"

Well, there would be no drinking. But Blaine had never been a huge drinker (partly because he became overtly cuddly when he was, and it wasn't that he was averse to the idea of cuddling, it was more like he cuddled with _everyone_ when drunk and he wasn't sure that would go down well with New Directions).

"Sounds good to me," Finn said, pulling out his phone. "Let me text Puck, and it's on."

Dinner was late that night, and after it, Blaine caught Burt giving him and Kurt blatant _"separate-and-go-to-bed-NOW"_ sort of cues.

"I think you're right," Blaine said to Kurt, as the two of them said their goodnights (Burt pretending that he wasn't supervising, even though it was obvious he was).

"About what?" Kurt asked sweetly, holding both of Blaine's hands in his.

"I think I should go see Jane on Saturday, before your party," he said, quietly. "I think it's time for me to really talk to her."

Kurt's hands tightened around his. "I'm really proud of you."

"My main goal in life," Blaine said, only half-joking, and leaned in to peck Kurt's lips quickly, shooting a glance beyond his boyfriend to his boyfriend's father standing in the doorway. Burt was looking away rather pointedly.

"Goodnight," Kurt breathed against his lips, and something twisted hotly in Blaine's stomach at the flutter of warm air that whispered over his mouth. Before he could begin to try to understand or question it, though, Kurt was gone.

**A/N: Oh my god, finally, it's done. Honestly, I am _so_ sorry it took so long.**

**(1) Link to the tumblr post with the picture of the Hudmel's guest room: http : / / klemonademouth . tumblr . c om /post / 4323100198 / chapter - 22-going-up-now**


	23. Duets, First Dates, and Hospital Visits

**A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. The date ended up being literally one page long, although the actual chapter is over eight. There is a lot of _stuff_ shoved into this chapter, and I think it might be too fast-paced for my own personal liking. But whatever. I definitely owe you guys a chapter. I'm a little ashamed about how long it's taken me to update. I'm _SO_ sorry. **

**On the bright side, 5 days until the return of Glee and we get to see Relationship!Klaine! I'm so excited! (and still not over the kiss btw but really is anyone? I still watch it about five or six times a day, it's rather sad) (oh and that also doesn't count the number of times I see the kiss gif on tumblr and get distracted watching it). **

**Who else is so excited about their PROM? **

**I haven't decided whether or not I'm doing a prom chapter for this. I got to go to Prom both my junior and senior year of high school (senior year I got asked by a junior, which was _awesome_), so yeah. I'm considering writing what I remember of Prom as a chapter. But I don't know. It depends on how it ties into the storyline.**

**ANYWAY, without further ado, here's my slightly-less-than-stellar chapter 23 of We'll All Float On.**

**Disclaimer: lesigh. I don't own Glee.**

When Blaine woke up, he was looking around an unfamiliar room. It only took a split-second for him to remember that he was at Kurt's house, but it took much longer to remember _why_ he was there. Then it took him _another_ moment to remember why he'd woken up, because normally he'd need an alarm or something of the sort, and then he started getting confused as to why he'd been asleep at all, because the last time he'd checked, he had insomnia. Then another knock sounded.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice, slightly muffled through the door, was more timid than usual. "Are you awake?"

"You can come in," Blaine called, his voice roughened by sleep. He cleared his throat a little.

Kurt opened the door a crack and poked his head in, his hair (of course) already immaculately styled for the day, his clothes neat and the height of fashion.

Blaine sat up, rubbing his eyes a little blearily. He hadn't had the _best_ night's sleep; he missed the good old days at Dalton where there weren't watchful parents making sure bed-sharing wasn't occurring. Not that he and Kurt had shared a bed much, mind you, but still. He'd tossed and turned a fair bit during the course of the night without Kurt's warm body there beside him or Kurt's scent wrapped around him. But there had been a framed photograph of Kurt sitting on the bedside table, just next to the clock, and Blaine had moved it to the pillow next to him so he could look at it whenever he woke. It was the second best thing to having Kurt actually _there_ with him.

Thinking about that, he suddenly realized that the photograph was _still_ sitting on the pillow next to him, and that there was no way he could move it without Kurt seeing it, because Kurt had already seen it.

There was a small smile on his boyfriend's face as he moved forward to pick up the photo, examining it carefully. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, lifting his eyes to meet Blaine's.

"Imagining me in your bed?" he asked, with a slightly teasing smile.

"You have _no_ idea," Blaine said hoarsely, and oh, okay, hi, he hadn't meant for his voice to come out that _desperate_ sounding but he was pretty sure he'd _growled_ a little.

Both of them froze for a second, then Blaine laughed nervously. "I-uh-"

He was spared by Finn throwing open the door, then shielding his eyes quickly. "Breakfastisready," he said in a rush.

Kurt sighed, pushing himself off the bed. "Finn, we're at least three feet apart and fully dressed. Calm your homophobic tendencies."

"Dude, not homophobic," Finn protested, uncovering his eyes warily. "Just don't want to see it."

"I never want to see you and Rachel making out on the couch," Kurt retorted, "but you do so all the time." He folded his arms, waiting.

"Sorry," Finn muttered.

Kurt waved a hand. "Go and eat. We'll be out in a minute."

Once Finn was gone, he turned to Blaine. "Go take a shower. I can lend you something of mine to wear if you want."

"That would be nice," Blaine said with a soft smile, feeling heat creep up his neck at the thought of wearing Kurt's clothes, and _when_ had that become, like, a _thing_ for him?

Kurt leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to Blaine's and then leaned back, the blush on his cheeks matching Blaine's. It was unfairly attractive. Kurt straightened up, sauntering towards the door. "You might want to hurry, though," he said. "We'll be late to school if you take too long in the shower."

He was gone before Blaine could say anything.

The bathroom was the same one Blaine had used the previous day to shower in; he just hadn't noticed the door on one of the walls of it that led back to the Hudmels' guest bedroom.

He got a little caught up in the feel of the hot water running down his neck and tense shoulders, unraveling his muscles (the Hudmels' shower had _fantastic_ water pressure). His shower ended up taking longer than he'd wanted; on the plus side, his hair took a third of the amount of time it usually did, and looked about ten times more natural. Kurt really was a genius.

He'd steadfastly avoided thinking of Kurt the entire time he was in the shower, but that was sort of difficult when Kurt was nearly _all_ he ever thought about. Every song he'd started to sing had, in some way, reminded him of his boyfriend.

And okay, maybe Teenage Dream was a given, but even _he_ couldn't fathom how "Friday" had somehow reminded him of Kurt.

He sighed, reaching for a towel to wrap around his waist, ignoring the few stray drops of water still trickling down his chest. He twisted the door to the guest room open, whistling a little to himself, and walking into the room.

Kurt, who was sitting on the bed, dropped the bundle of clothes he was holding. He scrambled to pick them up. "I'm sorry- I just- I didn't realize you'd come out in- uh."

Blaine looked down at the fluffy white towel still wrapped securely around his waist. "What did you think I'd come out in?" he asked, bemused. Kurt seemed to be forcing himself to stare at Blaine's eyes and nothing else.

"I really didn't think it through," Kurt admitted.

"Kurt, you've seen me in a bathing suit before," Blaine said, arching an eyebrow.

"You weren't my boyfriend then," Kurt muttered, now avoiding Blaine's eyes.

Blaine took a few steps forward, reaching out to cup Kurt's chin in his hand, tilting Kurt's face to look at him. "Hey. C'mon, don't do that. You can look."

Kurt laughed, light and breathless, resting his palm against Blaine's stomach. Crackles of heat spread across Blaine's stomach from where Kurt's fingers were pressed and he couldn't help but lean into the touch the tiniest bit.

"Get dressed," Kurt said softly, stroking over Blaine's belly button with his pointer finger, barely grazing the skin. "I brought you some things that will look good with your skin tone. They should fit pretty well."

"Thank you," Blaine said, wrapping his hands around the clothes, and _oh that's right_, Kurt was his boyfriend, so he could lean over and steal a kiss. He did so, kind of in love with the way Kurt flushed darkly before turning to quickly leave the room.

The clothes Kurt had picked out for him were nice- more simple than he'd ever seen Kurt wear before. Designer jeans in a dark wash, a gray Henley, a forest-green sweater, and a long black scarf.

They all smelled like Kurt- the scarf the strongest scented out of all of them. He lifted it to his nose, inhaling deeply, before sitting down on the bed that Kurt must have made while he was in the shower to roll up the cuffs of the pants- they were a little long- and slide on his own shoes.

He opened the door when he was done. Kurt was leaning against the wall in the hallway, waiting for him. He straightened up when Blaine came out of the room.

"What do you think?" Blaine asked, holding his arms out, searching Kurt's face for his approval.

Something in Kurt's eyes shifted, darkened, as he answered. "You look... really hot, actually."

Blaine shivered a little at the low tone to his voice and the look in his eyes. "All your work," he said, lightly.

"Oh, I don't think so," Kurt said, moving towards him in a way that Blaine could only interpret as predatory. In a move that surprised both of them, his hands shot out and grabbed Blaine by the hips, tugging him closer. "I think you're just hot," he murmured against Blaine's lips, chuckling a little when Blaine's breathing stuttered.

"Breakfast?" Blaine finally managed to squeak out, when his brain started working again.

Kurt smiled a little wickedly, letting his hand trail from Blaine's hip down his arm to his hand, where he threaded their fingers together. "Breakfast," he agreed, his voice still low.

xxxxx

Blaine wasn't slushied that day, for which he was grateful. He wasn't exactly aching to have to explain to Kurt why he'd gotten red dye number 5 all over Kurt's Emporio Armani sweater. He saw Sue leading Dave Karofsky to the principal's with his ear pinched between her fingers, and he caught a glimpse of an empty slushie cup sliding from his fingers to the floor, but he hadn't been the victim.

He felt like he was floating on a beam of sunshine or something until he pushed the door to the boy's bathroom open and found Kurt leaning over the sink, rinsing blue slushie out of his eyes.

"What the hell, Kurt?" he said softly and Kurt jumped, turning guiltily.

"You weren't supposed to find out."

"_Wonderful_," he said sarcastically, closing the door behind him and shooting off a quick text to Puck, telling him to guard the bathroom door. "So now you're keeping things from me. _That's_ the path to a healthy relationship."

"I didn't want you to worry," Kurt said, pumping the paper towel dispenser and wiping his eyes with the fairly scratchy brown paper.

"I'm your boyfriend, I'm _supposed_ to worry," Blaine hissed, dropping his cell phone on the edge of one of the sinks, rushing forward to cup Kurt's face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the leftover ice still clinging to his cheekbones. "Did he hurt you?" he asked, fingers and eyes running over Kurt's face and neck, checking for bruises, cuts.

"I'm fine," Kurt insisted, pushing Blaine's hands down gently. "That's why I didn't tell you. I'm not hurt."

"You should still _tell_ me," Blaine said, letting his arms wrap around Kurt's waist, pulling him in. Kurt sighed, his head falling to Blaine's shoulder.

"I know," he said, in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

Blaine pulled back, sliding his hands back up to Kurt's face, peppering his cheeks, nose, chin, eyelids with kisses. He felt Kurt relax under his grasp, holding onto Blaine's forearms a little less tightly.

"Feeling better?" Blaine murmured, pressing quick, chaste kisses along Kurt's jawline.

Kurt exhaled shakily, smiling so beautifully that Blaine's breath actually caught.

"God, I love you," he said, and his voice cracked a little. He couldn't be embarrassed by it, though, not when it made _that_ look cross Kurt's face. The way his eyes brightened to a pale green, the way his lips curved into a soft smile, the way his hand shook when he reached up to gently touch Blaine's face.

Puck pushed the door open. "I hate to bother you, but Glee's going to start soon and I just saw Karofsky leaving the principal's and I want to crack some skulls."

"Puck, you'll be sent back to Juvie," Kurt said sternly, folding his arms across his slushie-splattered chest.

Puck lifted one eyebrow in a smirk that Blaine was beginning to recognize as his badass-smirk. "Not if nobody sees me."

In the final performances of their Broadway week, Rachel did a stunning rendition of "No Good Deed" (from Wicked, unsurprisingly), and Mr. Schue stood up, clapping his hands.

"Great job, as always, Rachel." He rubbed his hands together. "Is there anyone who didn't go yet?"

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a quick glance, then stood up. "We chose a duet, Mr. Schue," Kurt said.

Mr. Schue looked surprised, but to his credit, only said, "let's hear it, then."

Blaine handed the sheet music to Brad, who took it with a placid smile. It was only a moment of the jazz band arranging themselves, and then the music began, and Kurt along with it.

_Live in my house, I'll be your shelter_

_ just pay me back with one thousand kisses_

_ be my lover... and I'll cover you..._

Blaine allowed himself to just watch Kurt for a moment, seeing the pure joy that glowed in his face when he sang. The smile on his lips, when he turned, was radiant, and it was _all for Blaine_. He was so focused on his absolutely gorgeous boyfriend that he nearly missed his cue.

_Open your door, I'll be your tenant_

_ don't got much baggage to lay at your feet_

_ but sweet kisses I've got to spare_

_ I'll be there and I'll cover you..._

In a move that Rachel had used millions of times, Kurt stepped backwards alongside the piano, keeping his eyes fixed on Blaine, a coy smile touching his lips. In a move that Finn had used a thousand times, Blaine followed, chasing Kurt around the piano.

_I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love_

_ now I know you can rent it_

_ a new lease, you are my love, on life_

_ all my life..._

_ I've longed to discover something as true as this_

Their voices sounded good together, Blaine took a moment to think smugly. Just as good as Finn's and Rachel's. Maybe even better.

Kurt let Blaine catch him by the hand, laughing a little as his boyfriend spun him around, then pulled him in to his side. Kurt's eyes were full of _something_ as they gazed at each other.

_So with a thousand sweet kisses..._

_ I'll cover you_

_ with a thousand sweet kisses..._

_ I'll cover you_

Blaine turned to Kurt, letting his hand drift up to press his fingertips lightly against Kurt's jaw as he sang the next lines alone, Kurt smiling at him with his eyes.

_When you're worn out and tired_

_ when your heart has expired_

Kurt reached up to let his hand rest over Blaine's on his own face as he joined him for the next verse.

_If you're cold and you're lonely_

_ you've got one nickel only_

_ with a thousand sweet kisses, I'll cover you..._

Rachel was the first out of her seat to applaud, followed by Quinn, who winked when she caught Blaine's eye.

"Nicely done, guys!" Mr. Schue said, sounding almost insultingly incredulous.

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine.

They walked out of rehearsal hand-in-hand, swinging their arms between them lightly. There had been something in Santana's face that Kurt had noticed when he and Blaine had sung together- something he was sure nobody else in the room had seen. And she'd caught his eye at the end of the song and he knew they'd be talking about it soon.

"So where to?" Kurt asked, breaking the silence as he got into the driver's seat in his car.

"I'll direct you," Blaine said. "I have an idea."

"Direct away, good sire," Kurt said, turning the key in the ignition.

After fifteen minutes of specific direction, Kurt pulled into a gravely parking lot with a giant flat movie screen perched at the end of it.

Kurt's mouth fell open a little. "You're kidding me."

"Nope." Blaine grinned. "Welcome to our fifties-style date. Complete with milkshakes and burgers."

"And trying to cop a feel inside my car?" Kurt asked with a coy smile, and something twisted deep and hot in Blaine's stomach.

"If you're lucky," Blaine said, pressing his lips together to hold back a grin at the way Kurt's eyes widened in surprise.

Kurt cut the engine, then gazed at Blaine for a minute. "You amaze me," he said, his voice soft.

Blaine's stomach fluttered. "Get out of the car and sit out on the hood," he said, swallowing hard. "I'll go get our food and be right back."  
Kurt reached into his pocket and pulled out a few folded bills, pressing them into Blaine's hand. He met Blaine's eyes. "I ask you on the date, I pay," he said firmly.

Blaine nodded, swallowing again, and headed for the snack counter.

When he arrived back at the Navigator ten minutes later, Kurt was lying back against the hood of the car on a pile of blankets, staring up at the darkening sky with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Blaine asked, prompting Kurt to sit up so he could take the hamburger and milkshake from Blaine, before Blaine climbed up on the car to sit next to him.

"Finn would _never_ do this for Rachel," Kurt mused, taking a bite of his hamburger.

Blaine wrinkled his forehead, smiling in polite confusion at Kurt.

Kurt met his eyes, and smiled widely at him. "You're perfect for me."

Blaine tried not to blush, but he could feel the way the heat was creeping up his neck.

"What movie are we watching?" Kurt asked, leaning against the windshield as he tucked himself up into Blaine's side.

"There are two," Blaine said, unwrapping his own hamburger. "Toy Story 3 and Hairspray. We don't have to stay for both unless you want to."

"I like both," was all Kurt said.

There were a few other cars in the parking lot- mostly families of young children, although there was one carful of teenage girls sharing popcorn and laughing.

They didn't talk a lot during the movie. It felt comfortingly familiar- a tradition that had started long before they'd become more than friends. It was nice to know that their friendship had in no way fallen by the wayside in the light of their new relationship. They were as in-tune as they'd always been- Kurt taking Blaine's empty milkshake cup from him as soon as he was finished, Blaine tucking his hand into Kurt's and his head into Kurt's shoulder at exactly the right time. They were on the same page, like they had been for nearly all of their friendship.

They both cried during Toy Story 3, and they both started laughing when they realized they were both crying.

Hairspray was going to be less quiet for them; that was apparent from the very beginning of the movie, when Kurt sat up to belt out the lyrics to "Good Morning, Baltimore", the girls in the car nearby whistling and cheering and giving a standing ovation (because, as always, his voice was _impeccable_). Blaine whisper-sang "Ladies' Choice" in Kurt's ear, making his voice as innocent-sounding as possible throughout the innuendo-laced song, pretending he didn't notice the way Kurt's fingers clenched and breathing stuttered.

All in all, a fairly successful first date.

"I'm a little annoyed that you're temporarily staying in the same house as me," Kurt said as he pulled into his driveway. "It makes walking you to the door a little ridiculous, doesn't it?"

"Can I still have a goodnight kiss?" Blaine asked, pouting in the same way he had during "Baby, it's Cold Outside", and Kurt was reminded of how much he'd wanted to bite on Blaine's lip then. But now they were dating, and he was _allowed_ to, and he leaned forward, sucking Blaine's lower lip into his mouth, nibbling on it a little before leaning back.

Blaine blinked, dazed. "Hey. No, wait, more of that," he said, chasing Kurt with his lips.

Kurt chuckled, pushing a hand against Blaine's chest. "Blaine, as much as I would _love_ to sit in here and make out with you, my dad has seen the car. We need to go inside."

"More making out in there?" Blaine asked hopefully.

"Keep dreaming."

xxxxx

_Hospitals really shouldn't be so depressing_. The walls could at least have been pink or yellow or something, rather than a depressing shade of snow-white. Blaine had read somewhere that the visual of red blood on white surface was psychologically disturbing to most people. Also, it was probably really hard to keep the walls clean.

But that was the point, wasn't it? White was a sterile color- it made people feel clean. You couldn't hide dirt and grime on a white surface.

He realized he was doing it again- avoiding talking or thinking about his feelings. Running away, as was his habit. Avoiding conflict.

Okay, that wasn't accurate. He liked conflict when it involved proving himself against those who'd made his life a living hell- but that had only developed when he met Kurt. Other than that, he _did_ avoid conflict. Kurt had told him that he had an obsessive need to be liked by people. He didn't like to argue with people, because it meant that they might not like him, even if it was only for a little while.

Jane had been moved to a less private room the previous day, so it was easy for Blaine to locate it. He hesitated outside the door, looking through the glass window. He'd expected his mom or dad to be with her, but she was alone. There was a coffee mug and a magazine on the table next to the visitor's chair, signifying the presence of one of them, but for whatever reason, they weren't there at the moment.

Blaine couldn't decide if she was asleep or not. Her eyes were closed, her breathing light. He'd just decided to leave and come back later when her eyelashes fluttered open, and she spotted him through the window. Her lips cracked into a broad grin.

Somewhat reluctantly, Blaine turned the handle to the door and entered the room. Jane made to move into a more upright position, then fell back, sighing. "I forgot I wasn't supposed to move."

"How are you feeling?" Blaine asked, taking the seat next to her bed.

"Honestly, I'm better now that you're here," Jane said, and Blaine actually felt incredibly guilty at the bright happiness on her face.

She reached out her hand, and he took it without a second thought, holding it carefully in his hand. It felt too-small and fragile, like it was made of spun sugar or some similar material.

"Did you calm Kurt?" Jane asked.

Blaine's eyes widened slightly. He didn't know what he'd been expecting Jane to say, but that certainly hadn't been it.

"He was shaken, but I helped him to recover," Blaine said slowly, trying to mask his surprise and confusion.

Jane sighed in relief. "Good. Then he's okay now?"

"He's fine."

"How is school for both of you?" Jane asked, and Blaine knew somehow that if she'd been able to, she would've leaned forward.

"It's fine. Jane-"

"Oh, Blaine, can we _please_ not talk about this?" Jane asked, sounding weary. "All Mom and Dad _ever_ do is talk medical around me. I want to hear about you. I want to hear about Kurt. Please, tell me."

Blaine was quiet a moment longer, his eyes searching Jane's face, before he spoke. "Kurt's having a party tonight. Or, well, later this afternoon."

"What for?" Jane asked, with a little laugh.

Blaine shrugged, smiling a little himself. "I guess just because."

"You going to get any at this party?" a familiar voice asked from the doorway.

Blaine whipped his head around so fast his neck made an unpleasant cracking noise. Layne was standing in the doorway, holding a mug of coffee and beaming at him.

"_Layne!_ What are you doing here?" he asked, standing up and reaching out one hand. The other was still locked in Jane's grip.

"Mom called and said Jane was hurt," Layne said, shrugging, "and she's my baby sister. And Toby is looking for work in Ohio, anyway. He's at a job interview."

"Where's little Blaine?" Blaine asked.

Layne slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Shit! I must have left him in the car!" She waited a second, examining the look on Blaine's face. "Kidding," she added. "It was a joke. He's having a grandparents' day with Mom and Dad."

Her gaze flickered between Jane and Blaine, a questioning look in her eyes. Blaine nodded a little, and she sighed in relief, sitting down on the table, pushing the magazine and empty coffee cup aside. She set down her own mug, then reached out to hold Blaine's free hand. "How've you been?"

Blaine laughed, the sound a little hysterical, as he looked between his two sisters. "I'm wonderful."

"And Kurt?" Layne asked, settling her other hand over Jane's arm. "I heard you two talking about him when I came in."

"He's wonderful, too," Blaine sighed, and he knew his voice must have been embarrassingly dreamy, but he didn't much care. Layne's face was soft as she squeezed Blaine's hand.

"Enough of that, we want to know about the good things," Jane said impatiently, her hand twitching a little in Blaine's.

"Yeah, how far have you two gotten?" Layne asked, eagerly.

"Layne!"

"What? C'mon, he's your boyfriend, we're your sisters, tell us!" Layne winked, nudging Blaine a little with her elbow.

"_Kissing_, Layne," Blaine said, firmly. "That's it."

"Nothing else?" Layne asked, leaning back in disappointment. "No hardcore making out or _anything_?"

"You're embarrassing him," Jane said, her voice light.

"He's hot, Blaine," Layne said incredulously. "And you're in love with him, and he's in love with you. What's preventing you from tapping that?"

"We're both new to this!" Blaine said defensively. "We're taking it slow and I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"I'm not saying you two need to go out and have _sex_ or anything," Layne said, squeezing Blaine's hand again until he looked at her. Her expression was less teasing this time and more serious. "But acting like a gentleman all the time can have negative affects, too. If it's something you both want and you turn him down a few times, he'll start to think you don't _want_ him. It'll put a strain on your relationship." Her voice dropped again, growing even softer. "It's not something you should fear, Blaine. When you're in a committed relationship and you both love and care about each other, it's a wonderful way to show trust. Physical intimacy, when it's with someone you love, is nothing to be ashamed or afraid of."

Blaine met her eyes. "How do I know if _he's _ready, though?"

"Have there been hints?" Layne asked. "Subtle things, like body language or looks?"

Blaine tried to think back. "I don't think so," he said finally.

Jane spoke up. "No offense, Blaine, but you've never been the most observant of people. He could be throwing out hints left and right and you'd never notice."

Layne laughed. "I hate to say so, B, but she's right. Maybe you should just _have _this conversation with him. I mean, didn't you tell me that your honesty with each other was one of the best parts of your friendship? Why should it be any different when you're dating?"

"I'm a little terrified," Blaine admitted. "I have no idea what I'm doing. I mean, I _want_ to- with him-" he blushed, unable to believe that he was sharing this with his _sisters_.

"_Tell_ him that," Jane urged, without batting an eyelash. "He's just as new to this as you are."

"Blaine, I'm _really_ not telling you to have sex with him," Layne said, tilting her head to the side so he was forced to meet her eyes. "Honestly, I'd be a bad sister if I was because I'd be pressuring _you_ to have sex with your boyfriend which is just weird, and because you've only been dating, what, a month? But what I'm _saying_ is, you don't have to stick with chaste kissing. You can go a little further, you know. Especially if both of you want it."

"I know _I_ want it," Blaine said, quietly. "I just don't know if he does. And I don't want to push him."

"So find out if he does," Jane said, stroking her tiny fingers lightly over Blaine's arm.

"So Kurt's party," Layne said, casually. "Are the parents going to be home?"

"I don't know," Blaine said uncertainly.

"If not, perfect time, right?" Layne's mouth curved up into a devious smile, and Blaine felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. He was sure his entire _body_ was blushing.

"Layne!"

Layne threw her head back and laughed.

Jane purposefully changed the topic of discussion, pressing her fingertips into Blaine's palm as she did so in a silent _"you're-welcome"_. He kept his eyes on her as she and Layne chatted. He'd been so sure that she would be uncomfortable with their previous topic- they'd been talking about _gay sex_, for god's sake- but she hadn't seemed to be. If she'd been uncomfortable with the idea of Kurt and Blaine holding hands and kissing in front of her, why had she been able to not only sit through that horrendously awkward conversation, but participate in it?

Jane kept coming back to Kurt- asking questions about his situation at school, asking if he was okay, asking about what he was up to. Blaine couldn't fathom _why_ she had such a fascination with his boyfriend, and from the looks of it, neither could Layne.

Layne left around two in the afternoon, after checking her phone and saying that she had to go meet their parents and little Blaine out in the lobby, so the four of them could pick Toby up from his job interview. Blaine waited until the door swung shut behind Layne before turning to Jane, and raising an eyebrow.

"Why are you so different now?" he asked.

She seemed to know exactly what he was talking about- it was something he'd always sort of loved about her. "Kurt," she said, simply.

"What do you mean?"

"At first I hated him," Jane began, slowly. "He was everything I was afraid of you falling in love with and it made me so angry to see that you already had. I expected him to be fragile and easy to crush, like- well, like you." she winced apologetically.

He waved his hand, as if to say 'go on'.

"But he stood up to me. His personality is strong, he has a strong will, and it's so different from his physical appearance that it actually shocked me. He said things that made me stop and think. About you. About him."

Somewhere in Blaine's mind, he remembered the sharp clap of thunder and the scent and sound of rain pouring down.

"What did he say?" he asked quietly.

Jane took a deep breath. "He told me that he loved you, and he asked why I couldn't see that. He asked what I was so scared of, why it scared me or angered me that he loved you so much. He told me that I was letting my hatred and my disability rule my life, and that my ignorance was killing you. And he told me that you still love me, no matter _what_ I do, or how badly I hurt you." Jane's face looked frighteningly vulnerable for a moment, her usually tough-as-nails expression melting into something much softer. "Was he- was that the truth?"

He could say no. Jane had hurt him so badly so many times, with her words. With her refusal to accept him for who he was and who he loved. And now she was reaching out to him, asking him to love her despite all she'd done. It could backfire on him. She could go right back to acting the way she'd been before, secure in the knowledge that Blaine would love her no matter what she said or did to break him.

But Kurt had changed something in her. He'd _saved_ her, just like he'd saved Blaine. Jane had seen something in Kurt, some side of him that made her admire him, look up to him. Try to understand him. Something about Kurt had changed her, and she was trying so hard now. She was reaching out now, begging for a second chance- not assuming that he'd automatically give it to her. She was reaching out, and praying that her twin brother could still love her despite everything she'd put him through in the past few years.

"Yeah," he said, meeting her eyes. "Yeah, it's true."

**A/N: I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter.**


	24. Tipsyheaded Wonders

**A/N: Ooh, okay, there was some confusion. 'Hudmel' is 'Hudson' and 'Hummel' put together. The Hudson-Hummel family. The Hudmel family.**

**So... I think this is the longest chapter I've written for this story. Blaine got cuddly. I couldn't help it.**

**Also- forewarning- in the end of this story, it gets a little more 'PG-13' **_**physically**_** between Kurt and Blaine than it has before. In this story or any of my others. So. Just be warned about that. Also that I'm terrible at writing actual physical... stuff. Meh.**

**Also, I've had this written in my head for a long time. This specific chapter. Since before they kissed in the story.  
**

**Also... I had another point I was going to make. Dammit.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

"So the point of this party is...?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow at Kurt as he wrapped a red streamer around the banister. He'd gotten back from the hospital only ten minutes prior, but Kurt had immediately set him to work with decorating the house. "Nationals isn't for another month, so you can't call it a 'Nationals Song Nomination Party'."

"Actually, I can," Kurt corrected, fluffing up one of the throw pillows scattered strategically across the leather couch. "It just wouldn't be accurate."

"Right," Blaine agreed, not sarcastically at all, and tied off the streamers at the top of the railing. He glanced down the hallway. He'd never actually _been_ upstairs in the Hudmel's household, and he'd been dating Kurt for... what, a month? He'd never even _seen_ Kurt's room, let alone been in it. Surely one look wouldn't hurt...

"Blaine! Are you done with the streamers?" Kurt called up the stairs.

Blaine dropped the roll in surprise, fumbling to pick it up again. "Yeah," he called back. "Yes. I'm finished."

Kurt's head popped out from around the turn in the staircase. "Good. Could you mix some sort of punch, or something, while I get dressed?"

"You're not... already..." he saw the look on Kurt's face and decided maybe he should know Kurt well enough by now to not question him when it came to clothing.

"The house looks beautiful," he said instead, pressing a quick kiss to Kurt's cheek as the boy brushed by. Kurt squeezed his hand, looking gratified.

He suppressed the urge to follow Kurt to his room _(be a gentleman, Blaine)_, and instead headed down the stairs to the living room.

Burt was in the kitchen, mixing something brown and goopy in a bowl. He nodded a greeting to Blaine.

"Homemade barbecue sauce, for the burgers," he said, in response to Blaine's questioning look. "Only thing I can make in the kitchen. Kurt cooks everything else."

"He makes amazing cookies," Blaine agreed, pulling out a seat at the kitchen table. "I can't bake to save my life, but he said he'd teach me."

Burt pointed to the bowl. "Have to get this done before Carole and I leave to go to her mother's."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "You're leaving a house of teenagers alone?"

Burt shrugged. "Now, I may not trust Puckerman or Santana, but I trust Kurt, and I trust Finn." He paused. "And I trust you." He leveled Blaine with a stare. "Don't make me regret it."

_Don't mess this up._

The doorbell rang.

"Can you get that?" Burt asked, indicating his inability to do so with his sauce-covered hands.

Blaine crossed the room to the back door, and Finn bounded in, a bag of groceries balanced in one arm. He clapped Blaine on the shoulder. "Sup, dude."

"You don't have to ring the doorbell in your own house," Blaine pointed out, looking at Finn as if he'd lost his mind.

"_I_ don't, but Rachel insisted. Said it was 'proper etiquette'." Finn said, as the tiny girl stepped out from behind him.

"Hello, Blaine," Rachel said, in her usual 'notice-me' tone of voice. "Is Kurt here?"

"He's up in his room, getting dressed," Blaine said, and without further ado, Rachel bounced up the stairs, saying something about helping him get into his pants. Blaine felt a momentary twang of envy.

"Why does he need help getting into his pants?" Finn asked, looking utterly bemused.

Blaine began laughing and for some reason, couldn't stop. Finn just stared at him as he clutched the table for support, gasping for air as he laughed.

The doorbell rang again.

"I'll get it," Finn said, staring at Blaine, who had one of his hands over his mouth in an attempt to calm down. Burt was chuckling from where he was standing by the sink.

Quinn entered the kitchen, looking dainty and spring-like in her modest off-white sundress, her hair curling prettily around her shoulders. She handed a bowl of chips to Blaine, who took it, still trying to bite back giggles.

She cocked her head to the side. "You okay?" she asked, with a confused sort of smile.

"I have no idea why I'm laughing," he said honestly, sitting down beside her at the table.

His eyes caught on a bottle of ginger ale resting on the counter. He jumped back up. "Oh! Do you think you could help me make some sort of punch or something?"

Quinn rolled her eyes in a sort of fond exasperation, standing up alongside him. "Sure. Where's Kurt?" She rolled up the sleeves of her sweater and began pulling various drinks from the fridge.

Burt patted Blaine on the back as he left the room, tossing his very masculine dark red apron on one of the kitchen chairs.

"Upstairs. Rachel's with him; apparently he needs help getting into his pants." He lifted an eyebrow.

"Unsurprising." Quinn grinned. "How are you two?"

"_Amazing_," he said, and he couldn't stop the beaming smile that spread across his face as he thought about their date the previous night. It had been sappy; a date that he _knew_ any of the other Glee guys would have scoffed at. They'd spent most of the rest of the night after the movies were done lying on the hood of Kurt's car, staring up at the night sky and just talking until they had to go home (or Burt would kill them for missing curfew).

There was something on Quinn's face, a sort of wistful glint in her eye as she smiled, pouring nearly an entire bottle of 7-Up into the punch bowl. "I'm glad."

She shifted, and the sunlight glancing off the cross that hung from her neck reminded him of something he'd meant to ask. "Quinn? Could I ask you something?"

Her back was towards him, but she tilted her head to indicate that she was listening.

"Isn't homosexuality against your religion?"

She looked a little taken aback, dropping the empty bottle of ginger ale with a clatter against the counter. She examined Blaine's face for a while, flitting mostly between his eyes as she appeared to think.

"It is," she said.

"Then how can you accept Kurt and I so easily?" he asked. "I mean- correct me if I'm wrong- you and I are friends, right? And you and Kurt are close. And you don't even... _flinch_ when we kiss each other."

Quinn closed her eyes for a moment. "Being a part of the Glee club taught me more than just how to sing in tune. It opened my eyes to a whole new way of looking at things, if that makes sense." She opened her eyes to meet Blaine's. "Kurt told you I had a baby last year, I'm guessing?"

When Blaine nodded, she continued. "It wasn't until I was an outcast myself that I truly realized how it felt. I used to think, like my parents, that being gay was a choice. That it was something you could help."

The words were so familiar- it was like hearing the old Jane speak in Quinn's voice using Quinn's mouth.

"But then I got pregnant, and I realized how it felt, to be ridiculed and tormented and made to feel terrible about yourself. And I realized that _nobody_ would choose that for themselves." She sighed. "I mean, I can't say that I'm still... comfortable with it, or that I can accept it without a struggle. But when I got kicked out, I did a lot of thinking. And my view on God changed."

She reached over to take Blaine's hand. "God is not cruel. He does not condemn people like you, or people like me. Why should you be condemned for loving Kurt in a way that's far more real than any of the other relationships in this school? And I made a mistake, because I'm human, and a teenage girl, and it happens. God does not condemn us for who we are and the mistakes we make. God may be many things, but he is not vindictive or cruel. And he doesn't hate."

Blaine shook his head, clasping her hand a little more tightly before dropping it. "You impress me. Most people can't see past their prejudices."

Quinn smiled faintly. "I... I see you and Kurt. How could I look at what you two have and think it's wrong? I've never seen him so happy."

Blaine flushed. "I like to think that I may have had a small part in that," he said, a little playfully.

"You _are_ the reason he's so happy," Quinn said, pushing away from the counter to answer the door as the doorbell rang.

It was Mercedes, Tina, and Mike, who were all loudly discussing something on the front step, complete with wild hand gestures. Mercedes embraced Quinn enthusiastically, flapping her hands as she pulled her into the conversation.

Rachel appeared at the bottom of the stairs, gesturing for Blaine to come closer. He did so warily; he still wasn't too fond of her.

"Your prince awaits," she announced grandly. He was barely able to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the utter _Rachel_ness of the statement.

Whatever politely sarcastic comment he was going to make died on his lips as Kurt descended the stairs, because _damn. _

Kurt always looked good. But in that moment, Blaine literally could not tear his eyes off of him. He was wearing _leather pants_ so tight they looked as if they'd been stitched around him. His dark green sweater pulled across his shoulders deliciously, and _jesus christ_ those were suspenders.

Blaine's mouth was suddenly dry as he forced his eyes to Kurt's face. The other boy was smirking slightly, and Blaine had a moment of panic, wondering if Kurt knew _exactly_ what he was thinking. And what he was thinking wasn't exactly polite, or gentlemanly, and _dear lord _he needed to stop his brain from going where it was going, especially in front of present company and with people like Rachel and Finn in the house.

The confident look on Kurt's face faltered slightly as he reached the bottom step. "What do you think?"

He swallowed. "You look amazing," he said.

Apparently it was the correct thing to say, since he was rewarded with a quick kiss that was broken by a dryly sarcastic voice saying, "well, isn't this like a puke-inducing gay hallmark card."

Santana folded her arms.

"They don't make gay hallmark cards," Brittany said seriously. "I checked."

"Don't any of you have anything better to do?" Kurt huffed, crossing his arms irritably.

"Not really, no," Santana said.

"Who's up for a Rock Band show-down?" Puck called from in front of the TV in the living room. Artie wheeled out from behind the couch, a guitar slung over his shoulders. "We still need a microphone and drums."

Blaine shot Kurt a pleading look.

Kurt shoved his shoulder. "Go ahead."

It was actually sort of lovely to watch for Kurt. He would never admit it to anyone, but he'd had his doubts about Blaine fitting in New Directions, after being with the Warblers.

He should've known Blaine would surprise him. He never would have predicted that Blaine would be the closest with _Puck, _of all people; He smiled a little to himself as the two tapped their knuckles together. Nor had he ever predicted that Blaine would be the golden spike (so to speak) driven into the club, the one that pulled them all together and kept (most of) their drama at bay.

Nor had he predicted that _Quinn_ would become Blaine's "hag".

The world was a strange place.

He hadn't noticed Sam arrive until the boy shouted, "I call guitar next!" from right behind him, making him wince.

Mike muttered something about wanting to play Dance Dance Revolution. Tina shook her head, joining Mercedes, Lauren, and Quinn in the kitchen. Surprisingly, Rachel was with them too. She actually seemed to be getting along with Quinn for once- the two were having an amicable conversation. Kurt caught the surprised looks that Tina, Lauren, and Mercedes were shooting each other.

He picked up the bag of groceries Finn had left on the counter and began unloading it, piling fruit on the the counter and pulling out the cutting board.

He pressed his lips together as "_Don't Stop Believing" _began in the other room, and he could hear Blaine's voice singing "_just a small town girl..."_

"Damn," Mercedes muttered. "It really is true. The hottest boys are always gay."

Kurt arched an eyebrow at her, nearly slicing his thumb open with the peeler as the kiwi he was holding slipped in his hand.

"Two finest guys in school and you're dating _each other_," Mercedes pointed out, and Kurt laughed appreciatively.

He may have been more than a little surprised when Santana suddenly appeared beside him at the counter, picking up a knife and beginning to wordlessly slice strawberries.

Other than a few questioning looks, the other girls didn't comment, and soon got into a conversation that didn't involve Kurt.

"How's it going with Brittany?" he asked in a low voice, reaching over to Santana to grab a mixing bowl.

"If you hadn't noticed, you and Frodo McFlaming are the _only_ people getting your queer on," she snapped.

"So not well," he hazarded.

"She's still with Artie, okay?" Santana said in a voice that was clearly meant to be angry, but just came out sounding sad and tired.

His pinky hooked around hers for a second. She looked at him. "I'm sorry," he said, quietly, so the rest of the girls couldn't hear.

She shook her head, pulling her hand back, and they resumed working in silence.

Brittany sat on the table, her legs folded under her. Kurt was sure that Santana missed the looks Brittany was shooting her, but he certainly didn't.

Sam poked his head into the room. "We're out of ice," he said.

Brittany's forehead wrinkled. "But where will all the polar bears live?" she asked.

Blaine was the only one to try and figure out Brittany's non sequitur. Everyone else just sort of ignored it.

There was alcohol, sure- Puck had brought about thirty wine coolers in a giant plastic bin, and people were a little looser than they had been an hour ago. Blaine was sipping one lazily, sitting on the kitchen counter next to Puck, who was halfway through his third. Puck was attempting to explain the deeper meaning of life in his eyes to Blaine, who wasn't sure that getting with chicks should be part of it, but he wasn't going to crush Puck's spirit.

Kurt wasn't drinking; he'd explained to Blaine before exactly what had resulted from that in his previous year of high school, and he wasn't about to risk it again. Finn was drinking more responsibly than Blaine would have guessed of him. Quinn and Rachel weren't drinking at all. They were seated at the kitchen table, having a clearly intense conversation.

Kurt wandered into the kitchen just as Blaine started to feel pleasantly buzzed, at that stage of tipsy where everything was funny and/or fluffy. And Kurt just looked so cuddly in his fuzzy-looking green sweater that Blaine slid off the counter (in the middle of Puck's ramble about clove cigarettes) and tucked his head into Kurt's shoulder, bringing his arms around his boyfriend's waist.

"Okay," Kurt laughed, tugging the wine cooler out of Blaine's hand. "You don't get any more of this."

"But it tastes _good, _Kurt," Blaine whined, but he really wasn't all that upset when Kurt drained the bottle in the sink. He'd been completely drunk once before and it hurt like a _bitch _when he woke up and it made him do things he regretted.

Right now, he was content with all the fuzzy tingly feelings being tipsy gave him, or maybe that was just being with Kurt. He should tell Kurt that.

"I love you, you know," he said to Kurt as the other boy led him into the living room, seating him on the couch. "I mean, I really love you. Like a lot. It scares me sometimes."

Kurt chuckled, rubbing a hand over Blaine's back as Blaine draped his legs over Kurt's lap. "Yeah, I know."

"No, you don't know." Blaine pushed his nose into Kurt's neck and sniffed a little, because Kurt smelled like cinnamon. He briefly debated licking the skin there, but he wasn't actually that drunk and he still knew a bad idea when he thought of it. He also knew that if he blurted out what was on the very tip of his tongue, pressing against his lips- how much he thought of Kurt, thought of doing things with Kurt, _in that way_- that it probably wouldn't end well either.

So he cuddled into Kurt a little more, and murmured little things that made no sense to him about Kurt's hair and eyes and skin- things that made Kurt's breath hitch underneath him and his hands press tighter against Blaine's back.

For a long while, they were the the only two on the couch (which was a feat in itself due to the amount of people actually in the house). As it grew darker and darker, Finn moved through the house, letting down blinds and switching on softly glowing lamps in an eerily responsible way that really didn't seem like Finn.

The lamp nearest to them cast a shiny glow on the leather couch, like a butterscotch colored puddle, and Blaine found himself staring at it for a long time, mesmerized. It was almost the color of Kurt's hair.

He could tell when other people began to join them, because Kurt's chest vibrated when he spoke to them, quaked when he laughed. Blaine pressed his ear more tightly against the buttons on Kurt's shirt and felt the way Kurt's muscles shifted as he moved his free arm, the one that wasn't wrapped around Blaine. He let his eyelashes flutter open and closed- mostly closed, but sometimes he opened his eyes just to check on the current status of the room.

Mercedes and Tina were sharing an armchair, and both of them were laughing. It was safe to assume they were at least fairly tipsy- their giggles were a little too raucous and out of control for them, and both of them were holding wine coolers. Quinn had apparently finished her conversation with Rachel and was sitting next to Kurt and Blaine on the couch, smiling softly at something Kurt was saying to her.

People trickled into the room gradually. Puck and Sam were cuddling on the opposite end of the couch, which meant Puck was more than a little drunk because he was usually very conscious of homoeroticism in his life. Mike was holding a pillow against his chest, frowning petulantly at the floor, which, huh. Was actually kind of adorable. Blaine sort of wondered in the back of his head why Kurt had never had a crush on Mike before. He was way cuter than Finn, anyway.

Santana, surprisingly, was another less-drunk member of the party. She was staring at Brittany and Artie with a look on her face that was a cross between resentful and just plain sad. Artie was wearing Brittany's sweater; Brittany was wearing Artie's glasses. Both of them were giggling, although they didn't seem to be laughing at each other. Lauren was playing angry birds on Tina's phone and swearing at the tiny screen.

Blaine wasn't exactly sure _how_ they'd all fit on the Hudmel's couch, but the only explanation he'd gotten was from Brittany and he wasn't even sure where to begin to try to interpret what she'd said to him.

It was tight quarters, to say the least, but he wasn't complaining. Kurt was pressed close to him, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. He was laughing in that carefree way that always made it a little hard for Blaine to breathe.

His fingers were _itching_ to touch Kurt. His thigh was _right there_, so close, and so _inviting_. And every once in while, Kurt would give him this_ look_ that he was sure was not intended to be as... _suggestive_ as it seemed to him.

And then he'd feel guilty, and like a creep, for thinking about Kurt like that in a room full of their friends.

The buzz started wearing off as it drifted later into the night. Blaine could tell who _wasn't_ sobering up- Puck was still cuddling with anyone (mostly guys) who came near him, Lauren Zises was still cracking her knuckles and glaring at random people, and Tina and Mercedes still burst into giggles at random intervals.

They were playing "Never-Have-I-Ever" (1), and Blaine was already out. He felt sure that this was intentional on the part of the rest of the group- nobody had used Brittany or Puck or Santana's sexual congresses against them to get them out, but nearly every member of the club (besides Kurt, who had clearly taken pity on him) had mentioned various stupid pranks they'd never pulled. Blaine had been a _prep school boy_, for crying out loud! Pranks were their forte! _Of course_ he'd put instant mashed potatoes in a fountain before!

He drummed his fingers on the armrest wedged into his other side as Kurt finally got out on "never have I ever kissed a boy" (Finn), something Blaine had fully expected to be said within the first thirty seconds of playing.

Kurt folded his hand over Blaine's gently, lifting it up to his mouth to plant a kiss in the center of Blaine's palm. Blaine's breath caught.

"Get a room," Santana said in disgust. Kurt smirked in a way that was decidedly evil, and pressed a hand to either side of Blaine's face to pull him in for a kiss. There was a series of catcalls from around the room.

Santana didn't look mad. She smiled in an eerily cat-like way when the two separated. "Wanky."

"Pervert," Kurt retorted, but he was grinning.

"It's down to Rachel and Quinn," Finn said. "And it's my turn. Never have I ever... sung a love song to a guy."

Rachel started to lower a finger, but Kurt put out a hand to stop her. "Yes, you have," he said to Finn.

Finn wrinkled his forehead. "When?"

"You were boyishly naive when you sang 'Just The Way You Are' to me," Kurt said. "It's a love song, even if you didn't change the pronouns."

"Dammit." Finn furrowed his brow, thinking."Pass," he said, finally.

Kurt pushed himself up straighter on the couch, in turn pushing himself further into Blaine's lap. Blaine focused on not hyperventilating.

"Never have I ever kissed Noah Puckerman," he announced grandly, and the two girls glared at him as they both lowered one finger.

Kurt smirked in self-satisfaction, and snuggled down into Blaine's shoulder, leaning his head into the other boy's neck. Blaine pressed a kiss to the top of Kurt's head, knowing how much Kurt enjoyed little romantic gestures.

Kurt tipped his head back- for once, looking up at Blaine. "Hi," he said, his breath whispering across Blaine's face.

"Hi," Blaine murmured back, admiring the way Kurt's eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks as he blinked. He was giving him _that look_ again- the one where he gazed up at Blaine from under his eyelashes, a coy half-smile on his lips, a blush stain high on his cheekbones.

He had to do something. He had to at least _try_. He bent his head even closer to Kurt's, tilting his chin so his lips brushed Kurt's ear. "You're really hot," he murmured, and he _heard_ Kurt's sharp intake of breath and _felt_ the way Kurt's hand clenched on his arm.

There was an abrupt smattering of applause and both boys jumped, tuning back into the room as Rachel held up her arms triumphantly. Quinn was laughing as she graciously accepted defeat.

Kurt and Blaine stayed curled up on the couch as everyone else began to pack up their belongings, giving out hugs and calling goodbyes. Kurt accepted a few kisses from Mercedes, Rachel, and Tina (and a very surprised Blaine received two from Brittany and Quinn), but neither boy was willing to move from their cuddle on the couch.

Blaine saw Kurt's eyebrows shoot up when Finn caught Rachel's arm as she was heading out the door. "Do- do you think we could talk?" His voice had lost all of the confidence and bravado it usually had. He just sounded... pleading.

Rachel shot a quick glance at the couch, before her face broke into a hesitant smile. "I'd really like that." She shot another glance at the couch before adding, "let's go to my house."

She mouthed "you're welcome" to the boys as she followed Finn out the door, grabbing her coat off one of the chairs.

Blaine realized the gift she'd just given them. Burt and Carole weren't home- they wouldn't be for hours. He and Kurt were alone.

"Do you want to go up to my room?" Kurt asked, and Blaine was sure he wasn't imagining that Kurt's voice was breathier than usual.

"Okay," he agreed, hoping his tone sounded somewhat neutral instead of shaky and breathless, the way he felt.

Kurt took Blaine's hand, pulling him off the couch and up the stairs behind him. Blaine's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his ears, a strange echoing beat to accompany the flush of heat currently spreading across his body.

Kurt opened the door, gesturing grandly for Blaine to enter, and Blaine swallowed hard as he did so.

It was actually kind of awkward.

It wasn't like Blaine had expected them to be completely comfortable- well, okay, maybe he had, a little. They'd been best friends, for chrissakes! It shouldn't have felt that... awkward.

But they were in Kurt's _room_. And every glance between them seemed charged with a crackle of electricity, some sort of undertone of unresolved sexual tension that _shouldn't have been there._ They were dating. They'd gotten out all of their-

All of their emotional tension.

Not really much of the sexual tension, though.

Blaine swallowed hard again. He'd never really gotten this far in his head- he'd only ever thought of asking Kurt out, and all the cutesy things they'd do together, not really the... _other_ things. You never think of being rejected after you're already dating the person. But there are _so many_ things they can reject you about.

They'd kissed, he and Kurt. And they'd said "I love you". But as for anything more physical than hand-holding and cutesy cuddles and chaste kisses- well, they hadn't quite gotten there yet.

And Blaine could respect that! He could totally and completely give Kurt all the space and time he needed before being a more physically involved couple. And lord knew they were both very new at this, and _neither_ of them knew what they were doing, and he was not about to screw this up by being naive and going too fast, no matter what Layne had said.

But so help him, if Kurt didn't stop wearing his skin tight pants and looking at him through his eyelashes, he was going to lose it. It was like Kurt was trying to be _purposely_ seductive. And it was driving Blaine insane.

Kurt sat on his bed, bouncing a little on the deep red comforter. "So, this is my room."

"I can see that," Blaine said, spinning in a slow circle to examine the decor, something Kurt had clearly worked hard at. The whole room was mostly red and white, with a little silver here and there in various decorations. There was a vanity piled high with products- skincare, haircare, and some that Blaine honestly wasn't sure about.

He was studiously avoiding looking at the bed, and the boy sitting on it, because looking at it gave him a funny feeling in his stomach and the sudden urge to _lick _Kurt, like on the neck or the chest. And that was maybe not such a good urge to act on.

"What do you think?" Kurt asked conversationally, and Blaine kept his back to Kurt as he answered.

"It's very, very 'you'."

He could feel Kurt's smile, even if he couldn't see it. "Thank you."

He nodded, keeping his back to the bed.

After a minute's silence, Kurt sighed. "Blaine, did I do something wrong?"

"What?" Blaine asked, tilting his head slightly in Kurt's direction. "No! Why would you think that?"

"You won't even look at me," Kurt said softly.

"There are reasons for that," Blaine returned, equally as quiet.

He heard the bedsprings creak, then the door clicked shut. His blood felt like it might be overheating. _The door was shut._ His heart was palpitating (five-dollar word) so rapidly he was sure he was going to have severe cardiac issues soon.

"So it is me," Kurt said quietly.

Blaine breathed out a quiet sigh. "Yes." He tried to go on, but Kurt was already speaking.

"You've realized that you're not ready for this, or you don't want-"

And god, he couldn't let Kurt go on, so he spun around, crossing the room quickly, and kneeling on the bed to pull Kurt against him. "_No_," he said, firmly, petting Kurt's hair with one hand. "I love you, okay? It's not that. Please don't doubt that."

"Then what?" Kurt asked, and Blaine _hated_ hearing his voice so small and pitiful-sounding.

Blaine pulled back, holding Kurt's face in his hands. He shifted back a few inches so they were further apart, both kneeling on the bed and facing each other.

"Kurt, I am trying to be a gentleman," he said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Kurt's. "I am trying to be the best you deserve, _everything_ you deserve. And I know how much you love romance, so I'm trying to do this right."

"Blaine-" Kurt started.

Blaine shook his head. "And I think I'm doing okay, even if I'm not very good at romance. And I'm trying to be a gentleman and not push you any further than you want to go, because we're both new at this, and I want us to go slow, for both of our sakes."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them again. "But dammit, Kurt, if you don't stop wearing those pants that look like they've been spray-painted on and giving me those _looks_ you give me sometimes, I'm going to lose my mind. And I will forget how to be a gentleman. And I might do something we'll _both_ regret later."

His eyes flitted over Kurt's face anxiously, searching for some sort of reaction, some sort of understanding there.

After a very long, tense moment, a smile spread across Kurt's face. "Good," he said, pulling Blaine in.

Their lips met in a kiss that was in no way anything like the chaste, mostly close-mouthed kisses they'd shared up until now. Kurt's tongue traced his bottom lip until Blaine opened his mouth a little, and Kurt's tongue slipped inside. Kurt's hands rose to thread through Blaine's hair, to grip his sweater where it clung to his hips.

The kiss burned slowly through Blaine's body, a fire spreading from his lips down his neck and spine and lower, pooling hot and low in his stomach, making his mouth open wider as he slipped his own tongue over Kurt's.

His hands acted on their own accord as he moved them from Kurt's face to his hips, yanking the other boy flush against his body, winding his arms down around Kurt's waist and tilting his head up into the kiss.

His hips jerked a little, and he pulled away, coloring and avoiding Kurt's eyes. He sucked in a breath of air as Kurt laughed, low and breathless, and planted a kiss under his jaw, pulling at the skin a little with his teeth before tracing his tongue down the line of Blaine's throat. His fingers clenched around the fabric of Kurt's shirt as his head automatically fell back, baring as much neck as possible. Kurt chuckled against his skin.

_That, _of all things, was what brought Blaine back to his senses. He pulled away from Kurt, ignoring Kurt's little pout.

"_What_," he said, with a breathless laugh, "was _that_?"

Kurt shrugged innocently, but his eyes had a triumphant gleam to them.

Something clicked. "You planned that," he accused, uncurling his fingers from Kurt's shirt to point to him. "You were doing all of those things to drive me crazy on _purpose_?"

Kurt shrugged again, picking an imaginary piece of lint off of Blaine's chest, letting his fingers linger a little. "I'm not a _girl_, Blaine."

"I know that," Blaine said, confused.

"I have teenage boy hormones. And teenage boy needs," Kurt prodded, looking at Blaine as if he was missing something.

"Yes," Blaine said, _feeling_ as if he was missing something.

Kurt sighed, then bent down a little to whisper in Blaine's ear. "_We don't have to go slowly,"_ he breathed.

And _then_ Blaine got it, his breath hitching, and he turned his head to catch Kurt's lips in a kiss that sucked all the oxygen away from both of them. He sealed their lips together, opening his mouth and tracing the inside of Kurt's with his tongue, before pulling away to examine Kurt's neck. He'd wanted to taste that neck since before they'd even begun dating.

Slowly, he slid his hand to the back of Kurt's head and lowered him gently until he was lying against the bed, then bent over him.

"Is this okay?" he breathed, the question tickling against Kurt's mouth.

Eagerly, wordlessly, Kurt nodded, and Blaine grinned before lowering his lips to Kurt's throat, sliding his mouth from the underside of his jaw to the little dip at the base of his throat, then lifted back up to look at Kurt's face. The other boy's eyes were closed, cheeks flushed, breathing erratic. _Success._

As he moved across to pay attention to the other side of Kurt's neck, his jaw scraped against Kurt's, and Kurt's breath unexpectedly stuttered.

Blaine paused, and did it again, experimentally. Kurt's breath hitched once again and his hand flew to Blaine's face, tracing his jaw.

"You like that, do you?" Blaine all-but _growled_, and oh hey, there was his _sex_ voice, good to know. He turned his head to the side to kiss at Kurt's fingertips.

"I think that much is obvious," Kurt said shakily, his fingers trailing up Blaine's arms and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Kurt's face was so open, so trusting and free and untroubled, that something clenched around Blaine's heart. "I love you," he murmured, before ducking in for a short, sweet kiss.

The expression on Kurt's face when Blaine pulled back was as if Blaine was Christmas and his birthday and Valentine's Day all wrapped up in one, and it was almost too much to take. He leaned in to press a final kiss to Kurt's lips, before rolling onto the bed, fitting himself into Kurt's side.

Kurt huffed a laugh, tucking an arm around him. "Who says you aren't good at romance?"

"You never said you love me too," Blaine mumbled, pushing his face against Kurt's neck.

Kurt laughed again, planting a kiss to the top of Blaine's head."I love you too, you soppy idiot."

"I'll take the love, but you can keep the insult." Blaine licked a stripe on Kurt's neck in a decidedly un-sexy way, laughing when Kurt jumped.

"Can we please get back to making out?" Kurt grumbled.

"Ask nicely," Blaine said, teasingly, and maybe that wasn't a good idea because all the breath was stolen from him when Kurt unexpectedly rolled over on top of him.

"_Please?_" Kurt whispered, sliding his hands up under Blaine's shirt, letting his nails scrape gently against Blaine's skin. Blaine's breath hitched, and hitched, and hitched.

He must have made some sort of noise, because there was a smug look on Kurt's face when Kurt bent to kiss him again, and Kurt's tongue slipped into his mouth easily and quickly this time, sliding hot against his own. Kurt's mouth- _oh god, his mouth_- was hot and hungry and currently sucking away all of Blaine's brainpower because he honestly couldn't remember much besides his name and Kurt's.

And it was like the ridiculously turned on teenage-boy part of Blaine's brain couldn't help itself, and one of Blaine's slipped down without further thought to cover Kurt's _ass_, and Kurt broke the kiss with a gasp and _holyshit_ a moan, a moan that Blaine could feel against his mouth and all the way down his chest. Blaine surged back up to take Kurt's lips again, moving his other hand up to cradle the back of Kurt's head, to tilt it just so that their mouths opened even wider.

His thighs were nearly _quivering_ with the effort to stay still, to not rock his hips into Kurt's, to not take this too far and freak Kurt out, but it was _so difficult _with that _thing_ Kurt was doing with his tongue to remember that he shouldn't rip all of Kurt's clothes off. Slow. Taking it slow.

That train of thought was difficult to obey when Kurt had moved from his mouth to his jaw, pressing kisses back to his ear and sucking the lobe into his mouth. Blaine drew in a sharp breath, then said, "Kurt."

"Mmmm," Kurt said, running his tongue along the inside of Blaine's ear.

Blaine sighed out a shaky breath. "We need to cool down."

Kurt huffed a little in laughter, then breathed, "think of the mail" against Blaine's lips, before sliding his tongue back into Blaine's mouth.

Blaine wasn't going to try to figure that one out. He had better things to do.

**A/N: (1) best party game EVER, forget spin the bottle.**

**the only thing that trumps it is Apples to Apples.**

**The boys were trying to get me to be more pornographic, so I cut them off there. Nuh-uh, boys. No way. Get real. **

**Okay so... yeah.**

**WHO'S EXCITED FOR BORN THIS WAY?  
**


	25. Boundaries, Sunshine, and Optimism

**A/N: Wow, sorry it took so long! But this chapter is _long_ for me, more than 12 pages in word. **

**Also- _wow_. Rumours. Was _totally_ not expecting to like that episode, due to the lack of Blaine... but wow, I sure did. I loved Brittany (oh dear god, Lord Tubbington...) and Brittana and Puck calling Klaine _boyfriends_ (finally!), and the subtle Klaine in that episode, and the Finchel... YES. Just YES. **

**Did anyone else notice Kurt still has the "courage" collage in his locker?**

**I didn't. What are you talking about.**

**PROM PROMO I'M SO GODDAMN EXCITED.**

**Just so you know. I already have a lot of the Prom chapter written and _all_ of it outlined- I wanted to get it down before canon fucked with my head, as it is often doing with this story (I almost said something about Blaine's dad in this chapter, until I realized my Blaine's dad is different from canon Blaine's dad).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. *lesigh**

So Finn and Rachel were together again. They were back to sitting next to each other during Glee rehearsal and singing sappy duets and chasing each other around the piano. Rachel was back to wearing her 'Finn' necklace and Kurt was once again expected to become accustomed to walking in on the sight of Finn and Rachel making out on the living room couch all the time.

It _was_ Finn and Rachel, so Kurt couldn't exactly expect it to last. Finn would do something stupid or Rachel would do something diva-like and they would break up again- and get together again. But for now, it was smooth sailing, and Kurt liked it better that way. They were happy, so _he_ was happy.

"What's on your mind?" Blaine murmured, kissing down his neck. Kurt arched a little, squirming happily under his boyfriend's attentions.

"Finn and Rachel," Kurt murmured, letting his boyfriend steal his lips for a moment in a brief but intense kiss.

Blaine chuckled a little, nosing along Kurt's jaw. "I must be doing something wrong if all you can think about is your stepbrother and his girlfriend."

"You are doing _absolutely nothing_ wrong," Kurt breathed, flinging his arms around Blaine's neck and pulling him in closer, using his legs to flip the both of them over on his bed. Blaine made a little squeaky noise as Kurt leaned in again, brushing their noses together.

Kurt had _that smile_ on his face, that coy, sly smile that oozed confidence and self-assurance, that smile that never failed to twist Blaine's stomach into knots because _holy hell_ this gorgeous boy was _his_ and that was something he'd probably never be able to get over.

And then he stopped thinking because Kurt's lips were soft and hot against his, and his tongue was slipping into Blaine's mouth again, and his legs slid from straddling Blaine's hips to just pressing down on top of Blaine. And now they were chest to chest and so close that not even something really small like an ant or a single playing card could fit between them, and Kurt was doing something absolutely _sinful_ with his mouth and one of his hands was sliding up the back of Blaine's shirt and Blaine _fully_ approved of this new development.

That was, at least, until Kurt slid a knee down and up between Blaine's thighs and as nice as it felt, it set warning bells off in Blaine's head. He pulled away from Kurt's mouth, turning his head to the side to catch his breath, sliding his hands to Kurt's hips to push him away. "Kurt, wait."

Almost immediately, Kurt tried to roll away, his face blushing a dark red, his shoulders curling in on themselves.

"No, stop, wait, stay here. I'm not rejecting you. We need to talk about this," Blaine said, keeping his hands firmly on Kurt's hips to assure Kurt that hedid _want_ this, because his boyfriend was getting that unsure, self-conscious look on his face that he sometimes got when he modeled new clothing for Blaine.

"Kissing is so much easier," Kurt grumbled, running his fingers up Blaine's thigh. Blaine's breath caught, heat blossoming in his cheeks and somewhere else, too.

"Yes, it is," Blaine agreed, grabbing hold of and stilling Kurt's wandering fingers. "Except that we _do_ need to talk about this."

"What is there to talk about?" Kurt sighed.

"A _lot_," Blaine said, firmly. "We need to talk about what we're ready for and what we're not ready for. We need to discuss boundaries."

"I don't _have_ any boundaries," Kurt sulked.

Blaine raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Really."

Kurt nodded petulantly.

"So you'd be willing, right now, to have complete intercourse?"

Kurt turned bright pink and his eyes flitted away from Blaine's. "No," he whispered, and his hands shook a little in Blaine's.

"Hey," Blaine whispered, slipping his arms around Kurt's back, pulling him more tightly against his chest, resting his cheek against Kurt's hair. "Look. I'm new to this, just like you are. I was afraid to make a move on you beyond kissing and _you_ were bold enough to take the next step. But we need to talk about how far we're willing to go with each other at the moment, no matter how embarrassing this talk may be."

"Okay," Kurt said, quietly. "That makes sense."

Blaine rubbed a hand up and down Kurt's arm, letting the other boy gather himself a little before they carried on.

Kurt took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "What you asked me before- if I was ready to-" his voice broke off.

Blaine waited a moment, then spoke when it seemed like Kurt wasn't going to. "Yes?"

"I want to get there eventually. With you."

And it was amazing, the _effect_ that _that sentence _has on Blaine's body, because now he knew that Kurt wanted him. In _that_ way. His skin suddenly felt too small for his body. He swallowed hard, meeting Kurt's eyes. "I want that, too," he said.

Kurt let out a long breath- had he been afraid of Blaine _rejecting_ him?- and smiled like he couldn't help himself. "Good. Not now, though," he clarified quickly.

"No," Blaine hastily agreed. "It's definitely too soon, I'm not ready for that."

"So what _are_ you ready for, then?" Kurt asked, shuffling back a little so he leaned against the pillows, legs draped across Blaine's lap, Blaine's arms wrapped loosely around Kurt's waist.

"None of that," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's side. "I asked you."

"Just..." Kurt closed his eyes, taking in another deep breath. "Just, maybe... touching?" he blushed even more darkly, looking unbelievably sweet and bashful. "I mean, just... over the clothes, I mean, and then maybe later... under?"

Blaine's cheeks positively burned. He'd been totally unprepared for the onslaught of mental imaged Kurt's words would bring him. Kurt's hands _everywhere_ on him- touching, kissing, caressing- his hands _everywhere_ on Kurt, Kurt whispering his name like a benediction, Kurt coming apart in his arms...

"Yes," Blaine said, the instant change in atmosphere obvious as he leaned over to crush his lips to Kurt's, threading his fingers through Kurt's hair, holding him tightly against his body with his other arm, pressed low across Kurt's back.

Kurt gasped into his mouth, then _melted_ into the kiss, kissing back just as fiercely, opening his mouth to let Blaine's tongue slip in, sinking back into the pillows even more to allow Blaine to settle on top of him, shifting between Kurt's legs without ever breaking the contact between their mouths.

"Enthusiastic, are we?" Kurt murmured against his lips, but he sounded a little too breathless for the tone to be teasing.

Blaine rested his forehead against Kurt's collarbone, still breathing heavily. "I'm sorry, just- hearing you say- just, god, _yes_, Kurt."

"You want that, too?" Kurt asked, as if it wasn't obvious. "Really?"

"You doubt that?" Blaine asked in surprise.

Kurt just shrugged, but Blaine could see him folding in on himself in the way he always did when he felt insecure about himself.

"Kurt, I _love_ you," said Blaine. "I know to you that means everything we've been doing- holding hands and kissing and talking and just being together and enjoying our time together. And I _love_ that, Kurt, don't get me wrong. But I also _want_ you. I-" he broke off, examining Kurt's face, gathering courage in his boyfriend's open expression. "I want to do _everything_ with you, Kurt. I want you so badly it's all I can think about sometimes."

Kurt actually seemed _shocked_ about this.

"You still doubt me," Blaine observed. "Why is it so hard for you to believe? Don't you want me?"

"Of course," Kurt said immediately. "But you're- you. And you've only ever seen my clothes."

Of course. Kurt felt comfortable with style, he _owned_ it, actually. He knew exactly how to be sexy when he was wearing clothes that made him feel sexy. He could work sexy if he wasn't concentrating on it. But when he was...

"Are you saying you're uncomfortable with your body?" Blaine asked. The idea seemed unfathomable to him. The little he'd seen of Kurt's body and the _lot_ he'd felt of it over his clothes- well, Kurt really had nothing to worry about.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Kurt said, a little snappishly.

"Yes," Blaine said, "when it's someone as gorgeous as you are."

Kurt tilted his head to gaze at Blaine, a blush rising on his cheekbones. "You're not scared at all, then?"

"Of course I am," Blaine said firmly, reaching to tug Kurt against him once again. "But I'm hoping, I suppose, that you'll love me enough to overlook any shortcomings I might possess."

"I see no shortcomings," Kurt breathed out, before leaning in to kiss Blaine again. This kiss quickly became open-mouthed and eager, and Blaine was _sure_ Kurt's hand was inching downwards, and this was definitely leading to some very good places...

The front door slammed underneath their feet and both of them literally jumped apart guiltily, straightening and smoothing their clothes. By the time Burt reached the top of the stairs, the door was open and both boys were intent upon their homework, Kurt lying sprawled out on the bed, Blaine sitting curled up in Kurt's cushy red butterfly chair. Blaine flipped his physics textbook the correct way at the last moment. Burt didn't appear to notice.

Burt had never been a man of many words. "You staying for dinner?" he asked, nodding his head at Blaine.

Blaine shook his head. "Unfortunately, I should get back home. Layne and Toby and the baby are coming over for dinner tonight and I told Jane I'd help her with her physics homework before they arrived. Thank you for the offer, though." He began stacking his textbooks.

Burt nodded, disappearing again.

"I take it Jane is home now?" Kurt asked, sitting up on his bed and curling his legs underneath him.

"She got back from the hospital yesterday," Blaine confirmed, sliding his calculator closed and tossing it into his bookbag.

"You didn't tell me that," Kurt said, failing in his attempt at nonchalance.

"Didn't get a chance to. Your tongue was in my mouth," Blaine said.

"Oh." a blush rose high on Kurt's cheekbones. "That's not my fault. You were distracting me."

Blaine's forehead wrinkled. "Oh? How's that?"

"Your lips looked delicious and I wanted to see if they tasted as good as they looked," Kurt said innocently, as if what he was saying _wasn't_ conjuring up some interesting mental pictures in both of their minds.

Blaine couldn't count the number of times he'd gotten distracted by Kurt's lips when Kurt was talking- distracted by the way they pulled when he smiled, by the way he'd bite his lip not when he was nervous or sad, but when he was angry...

Kurt was smirking, and he knew he'd been caught in his brief zone-out. He slipped the strap of his bag over his shoulder, grinning at Kurt. "I'll see you later, okay? I'll send you a text after dinner's over."

Kurt pouted a little, but accepted Blaine's quick goodbye kiss.

"Not going to walk me to the door?" Blaine asked, turning to look over his shoulder as he reached Kurt's door. Kurt was draped across the bed again, loose-limbed and lazy.

"Nope," he said, but his eyes weren't on Blaine's face.

Blaine felt his face heat up a little. "Are you looking at my ass?"

Kurt smiled in a way that was reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat. "Caught me."

He didn't seem to be all that contrite.

xxxx

Jane was already sprawled across his floor, doing homework, when he got home. She looked up as Blaine entered and threw his shoulderbag onto the beanbag in the corner.

"How was Kurt's?" she asked, scribbling something out.

He was glad she'd looked back down, because he could actually _feel_ the ridiculously goofy smile spread across his face. "Fantastic."

Jane slammed her physics book shut. "Done."

He blinked. "I thought you said you needed help with your physics?"

She shrugged a little. "I guess I didn't."

He tried not to get annoyed with her, he really did. But he'd left Kurt's house early just so he could help Jane with her homework, _because_ she said she needed help. And now she didn't?

"Jane, I left my boyfriend's house early just to help you with it," he said evenly.

"Well, I'm sorry to interrupt one of your many cuddle sessions," Jane snapped, turning away. "I'm sure he'll forgive you for it."

Two months ago that might've felt like a slap. Two weeks ago, he might've snapped right back at her.

But after their talk in the hallway, something had changed. And he knew that something was wrong. Jane had never been someone to simply state what was troubling her- she relied on her sharp tongue as a fall back.

"What's up?" Blaine asked, sitting on his bed. He carefully avoiding the phrase _what's wrong_, because God knew she'd heard _that_ particular question too many times in her life.

There was another thing about Jane- when her fall back failed, she didn't really beat around the bush. "One of your friends stopped by when you were with Kurt."

Blaine wrinkled his forehead. "Wes? David?"

She shook her head. "A girl. She said her name was Quinn?"

He tried not to show his surprise, but it was difficult. "She lives close to an hour away. I wonder why she was here? Did she say?"

Jane fumbled a little with the edge of her shirt. "We talked a little."

Somehow, suddenly, Blaine's protective instinct kicked in. "Did she say something to you?"

Something was clearly bothering Jane. She wasn't meeting his eyes, she was running her fingers through her tangled curls, she was chewing her lip anxiously, nearly breaking through the skin. She shook her head quickly.

"No. She, uh. She wanted to ask you to Prom."

To say that Blaine was surprised would have been an understatement. He was actually gobsmacked. He hadn't even _thought_ about Prom. To be honest, he'd forgotten McKinley even had one for Juniors- Dalton's was only for seniors.

"Okay," he said finally, aiming for nonchalance but ending up sounding somewhat bitchy. Maybe he was spending too much time around Kurt.

"Well, you're not going to _go_ with her, are you?" Jane demanded, her voice shrill.

Blaine blinked, not understanding. "I- I might..."

"But you're dating Kurt," Jane snapped, as if Blaine didn't already know that.

"I don't know his plans for Prom, though," Blaine said, trying for a calming tone of voice. "He might want to go with Mercedes."

"But Kurt's your _boyfriend_," Jane insisted, her scleras darkening to a more cerulean hue.

"That doesn't mean-"

"_Yes_, it _does_, okay," Jane hissed. "You wouldn't expect Finn to go with anyone but Rachel. You wouldn't expect Lauren to go with anyone but Puck. Or Tina with anyone but Mike."

He took a small moment to appreciate Jane's amazing memory.

"But it's okay for _you_ and _Kurt_ to go with other people?" Her little hands were balled into fists by her sides.

"Jane, this school isn't exactly _accepting_ of us," Blaine said soothingly. "And if we can make ourselves less of a target by going with girls-"

"_Bullshit_," Jane spat, vehemently. "You and Kurt have kissed in the middle of the hallway. Quinn told me."

"Why do you _care_ so much?" Blaine asked. Jane was going from asking Kurt if they'd tone down their coupley attitude around her to _pushing_ him to ask Kurt to Prom. To him, it didn't seem like that big of a deal. If he and Kurt wanted to go together, then fine. They would. If Kurt wanted to go with Mercedes instead, Blaine wouldn't fight him about it.

"Because I'm never going to _have_ this, Blaine!" Jane yelled. "I'm never going to have Junior Prom and I'm never going to have friends like yours and who knows, maybe I'll never have someone like Kurt either!"

Blaine stared at her wordlessly for a moment.

"Excuse me," Jane said stiffly, gathering up her books and papers quickly, and exiting the room, leaving behind a sort of chill in the air.

Blaine fell back on his bed.

He definitely hadn't seen _that_ one coming.

He hadn't actually thought about how Jane might feel about being homeschooled in high school, about not really having that social interaction. About how _alone_ she must have felt, particularly when Blaine started attending Dalton and didn't live at home any longer.

And she was right, which was something he _never_ thought would happen (at least when speaking in regards to his love life). He _should_ be asking Kurt to Prom.

Except now the pressure was actually on, and he had no idea what to do.

xxxxx

It was actually impressive, how easily Kurt could distract him without even _doing_ anything. They were sitting in Glee practice, Blaine's legs draped over Kurt's lap. Mr. Schue was saying something, but Blaine was more focused on the way Kurt's hands were running up and down his calves.

In his defense, though, he wasn't the only boy paying little to no attention. Puck was doodling a picture of a puppy in the corner of his notebook. Sam was watching an episode of Star Trek on his phone. Finn appeared to be sleeping with his eyes open- he gave a little jerk as Mr. Schue clapped his hands loudly.

"-which is why this week's assignment is _hope_. Optimism. Encouragement. Find a number that embodies all of those themes, and perform it in front of the group."

"Quinn," Blaine called, as the rest of the group began to slowly make their way out of the doors. Kurt shot him a quizzical look, then moved forward to catch up with Santana and Mercedes.

Quinn turned, a smile already lit on her lips. "I take it Jane told you about my visit?"

"She did," Blaine said, "and, Quinn-"

"Forget it." Quinn's smile was understanding. "I wanted to win Prom Queen. That wasn't going to happen anyway, not if I wasn't with Finn or Sam. And I messed up both of them too much to hope for that, so I was hoping you might replace them. I don't know what I was thinking, really. You go with Kurt."

"You're not going to get any votes anyway if you go with the token gay kid." Blaine attempted a smile.

"_Really_," Quinn said firmly, smoothing her hair with one hand. "Go with Kurt."

He grinned at her, hoisting his bad higher on his shoulder. "So what song are you thinking of for this week's assignment?"

Quinn shrugged. "I'm not sure I feel exactly optimistic right now."

"Why not?" Blaine asked. "Quinn, you've finally fixed things the best way you can. You've patched it up with Rachel and Finn and Sam. You deserve to maybe have a little optimism and hope in your life."

"I just don't, okay?" Quinn pressed her lips together tightly in an almost-smile- but no, it was too sarcastic to be a smile.

"Well, that's why this week's lesson should be perfect for you," Blaine said, opening his locker and smiling slightly at the decor, as he always did.

He'd seen Kurt's locker a billion times before- the ugly school photo of himself he'd given Kurt so long ago, the "courage" collage that never failed to make him smile goofily. He'd been jealous of it, but he'd never been artsy like Kurt, and was therefore unable to make his own. Thus, his asking Kurt to make him a collage too was completely justified.

Blaine's said "I'll Cover You" in giant, magazine-cut letters, and the picture above was taken at Regionals. He and Kurt were dancing with their arms around each other, Blaine grinning widely while Kurt sang to him (Mercedes had managed to snap it on her cell phone during their number). Kurt had blushed when he'd first heard Blaine's request for what he'd wanted his locker collage to be. Then he'd blushed even harder a few days later, when he presented the finished, slightly-more-elaborate-than-his-own collage to Blaine and Blaine's response was to push him against his locker and kiss him breathless.

"You and Kurt are the only ones who I think could actually make it," Quinn said softly. "How's that for optimism? How am I supposed to sing a song about that?"

"I don't think there are many songs written about being happen for your two male friends who happen to be dating each other," Blaine agreed, shutting his locker. "But I think the point of the song assignment is about hope. Maybe not _optimism, _exactly, but the possibility of a bright future. Remembering the dark times and places, and realizing that things will get better."

"I think I'm still in that dark place," Quinn said quietly, forcing a smile.

Blaine nodded, biting his lip lightly. "Change of subject?" he suggested, holding out his arm, elbow bent.

She took it. "Please," she said, her voice cracking a little.

"How should I ask Kurt?" he asked.

"Are you sure he isn't planning to ask you?" Quinn steered them around a corner.

Blaine thought about it for a moment. "No, I don't think so. He'd want me to ask him."

"Why's that, do you think?" Quinn's grip tightened on his arm and didn't relax until they'd passed Karofsky and Azimio (the former glaring at Blaine in a way that made him feel physically ill).

He couldn't exactly put his finger on the way he knew, without a doubt, that Kurt would want him to ask. It just _seemed_ so... Kurt. He couldn't imagine it being the other way around. He shrugged in response to Quinn's question. "I just... know."

He hesitated a little before his next question. "Will... will you be going alone, then?"

She smiled a little ruefully. "I guess so. Offers aren't exactly flying in left and right, if you hadn't noticed."

Blaine hummed in a sort of neutral way.

Quinn sounded a little frustrated when she spoke again. "I don't get it. I mean, I'm pretty, and I'm smart, and I'm popular. Why don't I have a date to Prom?"

"You ice people out, Quinn," Blaine said gently. "You walk around school like you own the place. You walk around like Kurt does. And it's great, and fear-inspiring, and all. But. Do you think, if I had gone to McKinley from the start, that I would _ever _have gotten up the courage to speak to Kurt? He would've intimidated me into looking at my shoes as we passed. He _owns_ the hallways when we walk together and I feel lucky to just be walking beside him. But I, unlike everyone else, know it's mostly a facade. Because he let me in. You need to let people in, Quinn."

Quinn wrinkled her brow. "Kurt told me you ruled Dalton. You used to get all the solos, you practically had _everyone_ wrapped around your pinky finger."

Blaine laughed. "That's Dalton, Quinn. Dalton is full of polite, rather pompous, geeky boys who enjoy rallying around a ringleader. And they really don't care if someone's gay." He pushed open the door to the school. "At McKinley, it's a different story. I _never_ would have had to the courage to walk like Kurt does, like he owns the place. He would have intimidated the hell out of me."

"You walk down the hallway holding hands with him," Quinn pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "That's pretty brave."

"It's because I'm with Kurt," Blaine said. "Kurt makes me brave." He patted her hand, and strode over to where Kurt was standing in wait beside his car.

"Are you going to come over now?" Kurt asked with a coy sort of smile, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones. Blaine's mind immediately flashed to Kurt's wide, inviting bed, the numerous pillows and the soft, masculine smell of the blankets- he wrenched his mind away.

"I can't," he said ruefully, and his stomach twisted at the way Kurt's face fell. "I have a _lot_ of homework," he explained. "I mean, it's McKinley, so that's confusing to say the least, but I need to get it done."

After a moment, Kurt nodded. "That makes sense." He leaned over to give Blaine another quick kiss, letting his lips linger a moment. "Call me tonight?" he breathed.

That simple request _really _shouldn't have done the things it did to Blaine.

xxxxx

"What're you doing for your assignment?" Finn asked, poking his head around Kurt's doorframe.

Kurt started violently, upsetting his mug of coffee onto a stack of sheet music.

Finn at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. "Sorry, bro."

Kurt sighed, standing up to grab a towel. "It's fine. Come in."

Finn edged into the room a little hesitantly, then sat down on Kurt's bed. "So?"

"I'm looking for one." Kurt sighed, mopping up the spilled coffee. "How strange is it that I've never been happier and more optimistic than I am now, but I still can't think of a single song to do for Glee?"

Finn's forehead creased and his lips parted slightly- a sure sign he was thinking hard about something.

"Why don't you do a Beatles song?" he suggested, finally. "Didn't the Beatles do something about... sunshine?"

Which is how Kurt ended up standing in front of the piano in the choir room the next day, singing another Beatles song- only this time, rather than having burning eyes and a lump in his throat, he had a grin that felt like it was taking up his whole face.

_Here comes the sun... doo doo doo doo..._

_ Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right..._

_Little darling... it's been a long, cold, lonely winter_

_ Little darling... it feels like years since it's been here_

He sang to Mercedes, who was grinning and nodding along to the soft piano and guitar accompaniment.

_But here comes the sun... _ _doo doo doo doo..._

_ here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right..._

_ Little darling... the smiles returning to the faces..._

_ little darling... it seems like years since it's been here... _

_ Here comes the sun... _

_ Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right..._

He shamelessly sang the verse to Blaine, directing every 'here comes the sun' and 'little darling' at his boyfriend, playing up the theatrics and _glowing_ at the beaming smile spread across Blaine's face.

_Little darling... I feel that ice is slowly melting_

_ Little darling... it seems like years since it's been clear_

_ But here comes the sun..._

_ Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right..._

Tin and Brittany joined him, laughing, on the last few lines, but left him to sing the final one on his own.

_Sun, sun, sun, here it comes..._

_ Sun, sun, sun, here it comes..._

_ Sun, sun, sun, here it comes..._

_ Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo_

_ Here comes the sun, and I say, it's all right..._

He let the last note fade out, holding it until he ran out of air. For a moment, everyone was quiet, then the room burst into applause. Mr. Schue stood up from where he sat in the corner of the room to clap Kurt on the shoulder. "Well done, Kurt! I don't think any of us have ever seen you do such a... _happy_ song. It's a great example for the type of song we're looking for with this assignment. Good job."

Kurt smiled a little smugly, and flounced proudly back to his seat, letting his arm drop around the back of Blaine's chair. Blaine cuddled up against him immediately, pressing a kiss to Kurt's neck.

"What was that for?" Kurt whispered in surprise. He and Blaine usually refrained from the _kissing_ sort of physical affection when they were actually at Glee rehearsal.

"I really like it when you're happy," Blaine whispered back, his voice cracking a little. His eyelashes were wet when they brushed against Kurt's neck.

Quinn raised her hand. "Mr. Schuester? I have a song prepared for my assignment as well."

Blaine sat up a little straighter, untucking his head from Kurt's shoulder to get a better look at his friend. He hadn't expected her to come up with a song in such a short amount of time, particularly after the talk they'd had the previous day.

She stood up, handing her sheet music to the drummer, violinists, and guitarist, then turned to face the rest of the group.

"I know a lot of you know what's been going on with me," she began, not really looking at anyone in the group, just twisting her fingers together anxiously. "This group doesn't really have any secrets, and this is no exception." She met Blaine's eyes, and held his gaze. He figured he was probably the easiest for her to make eye contact with. "I tried to find a song that said what I wanted it to- I wanted to thank Blaine especially, just for being there. But I think this song mostly represents that even if we _are _still the underdogs after winning Regionals, things are going to change."

She waved a hand at the band. They took the signal and began to play as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

_And it's a sad picture, the final blow hits you_

_ Somebody else gets what you wanted again, and_

_ You know it's all the same, another time and place_

_ Repeating history and you're getting sick of it_

Blaine saw Rachel and Finn exchange a look of surprise and almost... sorrow. Guilt, a little.

_But I believe in whatever you do, _

_ And I'd do anything to see it through_

Her eyes were soft on Blaine and Kurt, her lips curving a little in a smile as she inclined her head slightly in approval of Kurt's arm still wrapped around Blaine's shoulder. She closed her eyes as she launched into the chorus.

_Because these things will change, I can see it now_

_ These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down_

_ This revolution, the time will come for us to finally win_

Her voice dropped in volume again, her eyelashes fluttering open.

_So we've been outnumbered, jaded and now cornered_

_ So hard to fight when the fight ain't fair_

_ We're getting stronger now, found things they never found_

_ They might be bigger, but we're faster and never scared..._

Her eyes held Blaine's as she repeated the chorus a second time, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

The applause when she finished was slow, hesitant, but genuine. Several people in the room looked a little shell-shocked. Blaine _felt_ a little shell-shocked. He'd never exactly experienced Quinn's voice like that before.

She sat down in her seat behind Blaine, and he twisted his body a little to wordlessly hold out his hand to her. After a moment's hesitation, she took it. Her hand was tiny and thin in his- for a moment, it felt like he was holding Jane's.

He twisted himself back again to lean his head against Kurt's, leaving his arm raised over his shoulder, hand still linked with Quinn's.

xxxxx

Kurt liked where he was at the moment. He liked it very, very much, actually. The warm weight of Blaine pressing him into his pillows, the hot slide of Blaine's tongue along his neck, his ear.

Yet his own mouth seemed somewhat determined to always mess it up just when things were going well, and he spoke just as Blaine's hand began to slid up his thigh.

"Why are you and Quinn so close?"

Blaine's hand stilled. Kurt wanted to smack himself. He half-expected Blaine to pull away from him to answer his question, but instead Blaine slid down until his head was pressed against Kurt's chest. Almost automatically, Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist.

"She needs a friend," Blaine said, his voice muffled a little by Kurt's shirt. "And she reminded me of you, in a way."

"_Me_?" Kurt asked indignantly. He wasn't exactly proud of the squeakiness of his voice.

"I said in a way." Blaine ran his hand up and down Kurt's thigh a few times. "She doesn't let people in; she's too afraid of being broken. She has a vicious ice queen glare that can cut ribbons into people, and she's pretty when she cries, but she's the most beautiful when she smiles."

"Are you complimenting her or me?" Kurt asked.

"And, like you, she saw something in me that made her feel like she could open up to me," Blaine continued, as if he hadn't heard Kurt.

"I opened up to you because I was hopelessly smitten with you and I was hoping to get closer to you," Kurt said, with a not-quite-condescending tone to his voice.

"It worked, didn't it?" Blaine pushed himself up a little to plant a kiss on Kurt's collarbone, letting his lips linger a little.

Kurt shivered. "Do that again," he said, his voice a little throaty.

Blaine's hand tightened on Kurt's thigh, his mouth suddenly going dry. He complied, pressing kisses along Kurt's collarbone, admiring the way Kurt arched his neck at the lightest of touches.

"Sensitive area?" Blaine asked.

"You could say that," Kurt managed.

Blaine grinned a little wickedly before closing his lips around a spot along Kurt's collarbone and sucking the skin into his mouth, closing his eyes against the taste of Kurt's skin. Kurt moaned. Actually _moaned_, like a sex noise, like something Blaine had only ever heard in all that late-night porn he'd watched under his blankets when he was sure his roommate was asleep.

Both of them froze, then tried to apologize at the same time.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm new to this-"

"Sorry, just wasn't expecting-"

They both stopped. Looked at each other.

Blaine's pants were uncomfortably tight. They'd been sort of uncomfortably tight since Kurt had requested in _that voice_ that Blaine kiss his neck again, and he was _really_ hoping Kurt couldn't feel anything (he was being pretty careful about keeping his hips away), because that would be kind of horrifically embarrassing.

Then Kurt rolled his hips up, and _oh_, that was Kurt's-

"Kiss me, please, Blaine," Kurt whispered, and Blaine was _more_ than happy to oblige.

And then they were rocking together, sort of moving against each other, and _that_ was brand-new and a bit awkward, but _so so_ not uncomfortable, and they'd just gotten into a steady rhythm and Blaine could feel the breath being torn out of him in little gasps and the hot coil of arousal pooling low in his stomach- and then Kurt had to speak again (because _really_, his mouth was a fucking _cockblock_).

"Why haven't you asked me to Prom yet?"

The unexpectedness of the question was enough to clear most of the fog that had clouded Blaine's brain the instant Kurt had rocked his hips up against Blaine's.

"What?" he was finally able to ask.

"Prom," Kurt said, putting his hands on Blaine's waist. Blaine pushed himself up until he was straddling Kurt's hips, which _okay_ wasn't exactly the best move in regards to the future coherency of their conversation because it put their crotches in direct contact with each other, and _oh_, okay, _that_. Apparently talking about Prom wasn't a bonerkill. Good to know.

"I was working on it," Blaine said, trying to force himself _not_ to move, _not_ to thrust his hips against Kurt's.

"Were you," Kurt said levelly, seemingly not affected at all by their position, apart from the flush high on his cheekbones.

"I was going to _sing_ to you, Kurt," Blaine said a little peevishly, finally giving in to the urge to roll his hips down on Kurt's. _Both_ of them moaned this time.

"You can still sing," Kurt gasped, before pulling Blaine down into a messy kiss.

And _that_ was how Kurt found himself in the empty auditorium at 6:30 the next morning, sitting in the middle of the front row.

Blaine slung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder, settling himself on a stool in the center of the stage. "Your song kind of inspired me," he called with a faint smile. "Sunshine is kind of like... the ultimate symbol of optimism, isn't it?"

A small smile quirked at Kurt's lips.

Blaine brought his hand to the guitar and began to strum, keeping his eyes on Kurt's.

_Well, sometimes the sun shines on other people's houses and not mine_

_ Some days the clouds paint the sky all gray and takes away my summer time_

_ Somehow the sun keeps shining upon you, while I struggle to get mine_

_ If there's a light in everybody, send out your ray of sunshine..._

Kurt's hands were over his mouth, but he was smiling. Just that made a sort of warmth spread out through Blaine's chest, closing up his throat for a moment.

_I want to walk the same roads as everybody else, through the trees and past the gates_

_ Getting high on heavenly breezes, making new friends along the way_

_ I won't ask much of nobody, I'm just here to sing along_

_ And make my mistakes look gracious, and learn some lessons from my wrongs._

The spotlight was hot on his face- he could feel a droplet of sweat trickling down the back of his neck and underneath the collar of his shirt. His cheeks were starting to redden under the heat of the spotlight and the heat of Kurt's gaze.

To Kurt, he had never looked quite so beautiful in a performance as he did now.

_Well, sometimes the sun shines on other people's houses and not mine_

_ Some days the clouds paint the sky all gray and it takes away my summer time_

_ Somehow the sun keeps shining upon you, while I struggle to get mine_

_ A little light never hurt nobody, send out your ray of sunshine..._

Kurt stood up, walking towards the stage, his eyes still fixed on Blaine's. Blaine's gaze was soft, gentle, loving, and it made Kurt's breath catch in his throat.

_Oh, if this little light of mine combined with yours today,_

_ How many watts could we luminate? How many villages could we save?_

_ Well, my umbrella's tired of the weather wearing me down_

_ Oh, look at me now... _

Kurt ran his hand along the edge of the stage, moving for the stairs, never breaking his eye contact with Blaine.

_You should look as good as your outlook, would you mind if I took some time_

_ To soak up your light, your beautiful light, you've got a paradise inside_

_ I get hungry for love, and thirsty for life, and much too full on the pain_

_ When I look to the sky to help me, and sometimes it looks like rain..._

By then, Kurt was on stage, standing off to the side, just at the top of the staircase. Blaine had his body turned towards Kurt, the spotlight shining on one half of his body and leaving the other half semi-shadowed.

_As the sun shines on other people's houses and not mine_

_ And the sky paints its clouds in a way that it takes away my summer time_

_ Somehow the sun keeps shining upon you while I kindly stand by_

_ If there's a light in everybody, send out your ray of sunshine..._

His smile was hesitant, but genuine, and somehow slightly fearful in a way that Kurt couldn't really comprehend.

_You're undeniably warm, you're cerulean, you're perfect in desire_

_ Won't you hang around... so the sun, it can shine on me_

_ And the clouds, they can roll away _

_ And the sky can become a possibility_

_ If there's a light in everybody, send out your ray of sunshine..._

The final notes of the guitar lingered until Blaine slid it off his shoulder and carefully leaned it against the legs of the stool. He didn't move- instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets, still leaning against the stool, gazing at Kurt with serious eyes.

Kurt was the one to take the steps forward, almost running to Blaine and flinging his arms around him, nearly knocking him off the stool. Blaine's hands struggled to slip out of his pockets for a moment, then wrapped themselves around Kurt's back. "So is that a yes to Prom?" he asked Kurt's shoulder.

"You're an idiot," Kurt said, and Blaine took it as the _yes_ that Kurt intended it to be.

xxxxx

Their group number that week was, for once, _not_ a song Mr. Schue chose. It was one that Santana, Quinn, and Rachel (possibly the strangest trio the Glee club had yet seen) had asked Mr. Schue if they could sing, in what they felt was an accurate representation of their situation and of the assignment.

Finn started in on the drums, Puck on the guitar. Kurt and Santana stood center stage, gazing at each other with soft expressions on their faces.

_For those days we felt like a mistake, those times when love's what you hate_

_ Somehow, we keep marching on..._

Santana took the first verse, the pain in her voice evident as she gazed at Brittany standing off in the wings. Kurt knew by the expression on Brittany's face that she didn't really understand. He reached out to take her hand, opening his mouth to sing the next part.

_For those nights when I couldn't be there, I've made it harder to know that you know,_

_ That somehow, we'll keep moving on..._

He traded a small smile with Blaine just before the chorus kicked in and the rest of New Directions, including Puck and Finn, joined them center-stage.

_There's so many wars we fought, so many things we're not_

_ But with what we have, I promise you that_

_ We're marching on, we're marching on, we're marching on_

_ For all of the plans we've made, there isn't a flag I'd wave_

_ Don't care if we bend, I'd sink us to swim_

_ We're marching on, we're marching on, we're marching on_

Blaine moved forward to take the next part, brushing a hand against Kurt's arm.

_For this dance we'll move with each other, there ain't no other step than one foot,_

_ Right in front of the other..._

He reached out to pull Quinn to him in a twirl, moving her around the stage in some imitation of ballroom dancing.

_There's so many wars we fought, there's so many things we're not_

_ But with what we have, I promise you that_

_ We're marching on, we're marching on, we're marching on_

Everyone fell back as Quinn stepped into the spotlight, her voice ringing out across the empty auditorium.

_We'll have the days we break, and we'll have the scars to prove it_

_ We'll have the bonds that we save, but we'll have the heart not to lose it_

Blaine took her hand on one side, Kurt on the other, squeezing tightly as they raised their heads to sing out the final verse.

_There's so many wars we fought, there's so many things we're not_

_ But with what we have, I promise you that_

_ We're marching on, we're marching on, we're marching on_

_ Right, right, right, right left right, right, right, right left right, r__ight, right..._

_ We're marching on, we're marching on,_

_ We're marching on._

Kurt saw Quinn discreetly wipe under one of her eyes, and he turned away quickly to give her some privacy.

He caught Santana's eye. She looked so lost- she didn't even seem to notice the way Brittany was staring at her from across the stage, a rare look of clarity in her eyes.

Kurt jerked his head to Brittany, mouthing "go".

Santana went.

**A/N: Yes, I had Quinn sing a Taylor Swift song. It worked with the general plotline and her personal plotline and I think her voice could do it. Don't hate on .**

_**Also I keep cockblocking the boys. Lol.**_

**Songs used in this particular chapter:**

**1. Here Comes the Sun by the Beatles**

**2. Change by Taylor Swift**

**3. Sunshine Song by Jason Mraz**

**4. Marchin On by OneRepublic**


	26. Prom Night

**A/N: okay, so here's my warning. Things will get heated between the boys. I can guarantee you that I won't be writing any _real_ smut in this fic, but things are going to get more sexual. They're two teenage boys in love. If you'd like to stop reading or you feel uncomfortable with it, I'm sorry that you do and I'm sorry you have to stop reading. I don't think this warrants changing the rating quite yet, and there _will_ be warning if I do decide to change the rating to M. **

**That said, someone asked me how I felt about the prom episode. The answer to that question can be found here: http : / / klemonademouth . tumblr . com / post / 5431530694 / and-finally-my-feelings-on-prom-queen-because-i**

**(just remove the spaces, obviously).**

**I've had this chapter outlined for a long time, because I knew if I didn't do it, canon was going to fuck with my story. **

**Disclaimer: As always, I don't own Glee.**

"I don't understand why Prom is such a big deal," Mercedes said, brushing a dab of nail polish over her thumbnail, then holding her fingers away to admire her handiwork.

"It's a right of passage," Kurt responded, laying out his tuxedo jacket. "It's a part of high school life."

Mercedes waited, then raised her eyebrow when Kurt didn't continue. "No griping about being forced to attend?"

Kurt sniffed. "I may be superior to all of them, but I also have a hot boyfriend. I want to rub it in everyone's faces."

Mercedes' eyebrows shot up even further. "You're certainly singing a different tune than the one you were singing a few weeks ago."

"Blaine's changed my views a little," Kurt admitted. "Why can't he and I be proud of our relationship? I don't want to act ashamed of it, because I'm not."

"Preach," Mercedes said, blowing on her second coat.

"I'm proud of you, though," Kurt said.

Mercedes looked up in confusion.

"For not getting caught up in all this Prom Queen drama," Kurt clarified. "For just being your fabulous self. For not caring. And for agreeing to go with Sam, because he's the only guy in that club who even comes _close_ to deserving you."

Mercedes swatted at him, a fond smile curving across her lips.

There was the sound of thudding footsteps in the hall, and that was the only warning they got before Finn burst into the room, his eyes wild. "I can't tie my tie!"

There was an untied black bow tie hanging limply from his hands; he looked far too terrified for such a simple predicament. Kurt had to bite back a laugh.

"Hold still, you giant, I'll tie it for you. Breathe." He took the tie from Finn's hands, and had to stand on his toes to loop it around his stepbrother's neck. "You're shaking," he noted.

"Nervous," Finn explained, with a self-deprecating smile. "This is kind of like... mine and Rachel's first real date back together again. I don't want to screw it up."

"Stop freaking out," Kurt advised, finishing with the tie and stepping back to straighten it. "She's going to love you. You look wonderful. Go fix your hair."

Finn nodded, turning to dash out of the room.

Rachel poked her head around the edge of Kurt's closet. "Is he gone?"

"You're safe," Kurt said. "I don't think he even knows you're here." He handed her the dress hanging on the back of his door. It was a slinky black number, and at first he'd been surprised she'd chosen it. But it worked on her- for once, she looked like neither a toddler nor a grandmother. She looked grown up.

"Thanks," she said, and disappeared behind the door again.

Mercedes wiggled her fingers at Kurt. "Put on your tux. Blaine and Sam are going to be here any moment."

Kurt rolled his eyes, sliding the tie around his neck and looping it into a knot without looking. He was clad only in boxers on the lower half of his body- nice ones, that Mercedes had voiced her appreciation for when she had first seen them. He wasn't _expecting_ the night to go the typical way Prom nights usually did in movies- after all, he and Blaine weren't exactly the typical teenage couple and they weren't exactly even _close_ to ready for _that_ yet- but if he had it his way, he'd get at least a bit of light groping, and it never hurt to be prepared.

He stepped carefully into his tuxedo pants. Unlike Finn, he hadn't rented his tux- he'd bought it. It fit him like a glove, like all the other boy's tuxedos in the room's wouldn't. It tapered a little at the waist, and fit snugly across the shoulders. The pants clung to his legs and folded just so over his dress shoes. He slipped on the jacket, running his fingers lightly over his immaculate hairstyle, then spun around, holding his arms out for Mercedes' scrutiny.

Her eyes widened and she let out a low whistle. "Damn," she said, winking. "Blaine isn't going to know what's hit him."

"That's the idea," he said, with a somewhat coy smile.

She reached out to straighten his thin silver tie, tucking it under his vest, then picked up her own dress from the bed. She headed into the bathroom just as Rachel swept out of the closet, striking a pose.

"Lovely," Kurt said, and she was. The gown was breathtaking on her, and her hairstyle- half-up, cascading in ringlets down her back- worked perfectly with the simple but stunning ensemble.

She smiled a little shyly, ducking her head. "But do you think Finn will like it?"

"Finn will love it," he reassured her. He didn't bother to tell her that Finn would be a little more interesting in what was under the dress than the dress itself. Let her have her moment.

There was a red imprezza pulling into the driveway- Blaine and Sam had arrived. Kurt turned away from the window as the driver's side door opened- he didn't want to see Blaine's tux until the moment Blaine saw his. They'd coordinated on swatches of color, but that was it.

Mercedes appeared at the bathroom door, striking a pose. "What do you think?" she asked. Her dress was an electric pink color that really, only _she_ could pull off.

"Stunning, as always," Kurt said, smiling at her in the way he always had.

"And my hair?" she asked, patting it and grinning as if she already knew the answer.

"Perfect." He turned to Rachel, only to see she'd already left the room, presumably to make her big staircase descent without any surplus people stealing her thunder. He should have expected it, if he was being completely honest with himself.

"Shall we?" he said, offering his arm to Mercedes.

She raised her eyebrow. "You don't want to make your grand entrance so your boy can drool all over the carpet as you walk down the stairs in slow motion?"

Kurt laughed, shaking his head. "I'll spare the carpet the drool stains. And staircase descents are overrated and overdone. I'd rather show you off."

"To who?" Mercedes asked playfully, but let Kurt take her arm to lead her down the hallway.

Carole and Rachel's dads were busy snapping a thousand pictures of Finn putting the corsage of red roses on Rachel's wrist. Sam and Blaine were having a murmured conversation at the bottom of the stairs- Kurt let himself acknowledge their presence out of the corner of his eye, but refused to focus on any details of what Blaine was wearing.

He let out a tiny cough to catch the boys' attention, then gestured for Mercedes to go ahead of him down the staircase. After all, the staircase moment _should_ belong to the lady. He stepped down after her, grateful at the fact that Sam seemed to have eyes only for her.

He met Blaine's gaze at the bottom of the stairs, and finally allowed his eyes to rake over his boyfriend's form. His tuxedo, unlike Sam's, was quite obviously cut to fit his body- chic, simple, obviously expensive (as if anyone in this town would know or care about an expensively made tuxedo). His vest and tie were a deep, midnight blue, to correspond with Kurt's silver. His eyes were joyful and his voice, soft, as he reached out for Kurt.

"You look amazing," he said, in a low whisper that was meant only for Kurt's ears. His eyes were dark, hot, when they bore into Kurt's.

A prickle of heat spread up the back of Kurt's neck and he ducked his head, smiling shyly. "So do you."

Blaine glanced around quickly- Carole was still beaming and cooing over Finn and Rachel, and Burt was nowhere to be seen- before leaning up a little and kissing Kurt quickly. "I meant it. Who made your tux?"

"Ralph Lauren." Kurt threaded their fingers together. "That's all I get? One little kiss?" He pretended to pout a little. "I put a lot of effort into looking this good, I'll have you know."

"It looks effortless," Blaine promised, squeezing his hand.

Kurt made an impatient huffing noise.

Blaine looked at him incredulously. "What, you want _more_, right here, in a room full of people- your parents?"

"Well, when else are we going to get the chance?" Kurt asked, arching both eyebrows.

"I was thinking afterwards..." Blaine said slowly, "at Puck's after party?"

"Puck's having an after party?" Kurt asked in surprise.

"You didn't know about that?" Blaine asked, seeming just as surprised. "He sent out a facebook invite. His parents won't be home."

Ah. That explained it. "I haven't been on the computer in a few days," Kurt said, reaching over to open a drawer on the small table beside the couch. He withdrew the boutonniere-a single white rose. Blaine leaned over the couch and pulled an identical one from within the folds of his coat.

There was a blush rising up Blaine's neck too now as he leaned over to pin it onto Kurt's lapel, letting his hands linger over Kurt's chest, brushing over his collar and lapels, then taking a step back. Kurt's spine stiffened in surprise as Blaine's eyes raked appreciatively up and down his body.

"You can't look at me like that when you're saying I can't have more until later," Kurt hissed, glancing around the room.

Blaine's breath hitched. "This... uh... looking at you like what?"

Kurt's eyes darted around nervously. "God, Blaine, like you'd like nothing more than to rip all my clothes off right here, right now."

It was like someone had dropped something hot down the back of Blaine's shirt, sending a rush of blinding heat down his spine. He _had_ been looking at Kurt like that, of course, but he hadn't expected Kurt to just _say_ it, so boldly, even though they were surrounded by people.

"You look good, kid," Burt's gruff voice said, and Blaine jumped, feeling guilty in the presence of his subject of lust's father. He quickly schooled his face into an expression that didn't scream "I'm-up-to-something!" and smiled at his boyfriend's dad.

"Doesn't he?" Blaine said, ignoring the embarrassed flush creeping up Kurt's cheeks and the way he kept mouthing "stop it, stop it."

They were pushed together by Carole, who was insisting on pictures (although it was Rachel who wanted the typical awkward-smile prom photos- Carole wanted something a little more natural and Blaine privately agreed with her).

When it came time for their turn for couples photos, they each rested a hand on the small of the other's back, smiling softly at each other as Carole took the photo with a camera that hadn't seen the light of day since the nineties. They'd have their own, official, awkward prom pictures later, but these would be the ones they'd put up in their lockers later- Kurt with his arm thrown around Blaine's shoulders, Blaine leaning up to press his lips to Kurt's cheeks just before the camera flashed (Kurt's eyes wide in surprise), both of them doing bunny ears behind each other's heads...

The two heterosexual couples took a car that Burt had set up for them- a sleek silver convertible with the windows rolled up to protect the girls' hair. Even so, Rachel wrapped a scarf around her head as she got into the car.

Blaine held the door of his car open for Kurt, smiling softly before getting in on his own side.

Blaine's car had never exactly been _messy_, more of a comfortable sort of _somebody uses this_ sort of state, and yet it was still noticeable, how much cleaner the car was.

"You cleaned," Kurt observed. He looked over at his boyfriend, and was surprised to find Blaine blushing and ducking his head.

"My dad offered to get it detailed for me, and I wanted to look good for you... wanted to, uh... wanted to impress you..."

Kurt's breath caught a little.

He knew, he _knew_ Blaine loved him. He'd been told it a thousand times by him. But words were easy, and sometimes Kurt would think about how sure he was that he was so much more in love with Blaine than Blaine was with him.

And then Blaine would go and do something like that, something that showed how completely and desperately in love he was with Kurt, and it would catch Kurt so by surprise that it would feel like all the air had been knocked from his lungs.

He struggled for a second. "I don't- I-"

Blaine's hand landed over his, soft and warm. "I know how important this is to you, Kurt. Before you, I never really thought about prom because I honestly never thought I'd have a _real_ date to go with. And I want to make this as special for you as I can."

Kurt couldn't fight the ridiculously silly grin that crossed his face at the words, simply beaming at Blaine for a while.

"I love you," he said, once he found his voice.

Blaine exhaled quietly, a grin spreading across his face that nearly matched Kurt's in its ridiculousness.

He cut the engine as they pulled into a parking space at Breadstix. "Don't open your door," he said, shooting Kurt a stern look, before getting out of the car and circling around it to open Kurt's door for him.

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, but he was smiling, so Blaine didn't take it too seriously.

The restaurant was overcrowded with teenagers in formal wear- it made sense, seeing as Breadstix was really the only restaurant in Lima that came anywhere close to being a formal one.

Brittany was the first to spot them, standing up to wave her arms over her head and jump up and down enthusiastically. Her dress was sunshine yellow- to Blaine, it seemed to reflect her bright and happy personality. She was only waving with one of her hands; the other was clasped tightly with one of Santana's. When Kurt noticed this, his own grip on Blaine's hand tightened.

Blaine wasn't sure what, exactly, had gone down between Brittany and Artie for Brittany to be attending Prom with Santana. He wasn't close enough to Artie to ask, and Brittany's explanation of the situation (told to Blaine the previous Wednesday, when he and Brittany had gone to the zoo together) hadn't actually made a whole lot of sense to him. When he'd asked Kurt, Kurt had laughed and told him that despite his being Santana's only _real _male friend, she didn't exactly tell him much.

"We saved you seats!" Mercedes said from her place between Sam and Rachel.

There were two empty seats in between Mike and Quinn- the rest of the table was full. The other twelve members of the Glee club were already there, drinks and menus in front of them.

Kurt and Blaine squeezed past Mike and Tina, scooting into the empty seats in the conglomeration of tables that had been pushed together.

"What took you so long?" Puck asked, a knowing smirk crossing his face. "Take a detour?"

Kurt felt his cheeks flame, although he knew he should have been expecting it, particularly from Puck. "We left right after Finn and Rachel," he said defensively. "Blaine isn't very good with directions."

Puck looked as if he wanted to make another lewd comment, but Lauren elbowed him and then nodded shortly to Blaine and Kurt. Blaine supposed it was some sort of weird, Lauren-esque way of saying she had their backs.

Dinner was strange and wonderful. Blaine had been at McKinley for nearly two and a half months, and he still didn't quite understand the logistics and dynamics of the place and the people in it. He still sometimes felt lost in the insanity and drama that seemed to follow New Directions wherever it went.

Lauren and Puck were arm wrestling again, a light sheen of sweat breaking out across Puck's forehead as he struggled against Lauren's iron grip. His royal blue tie contrasted nicely with his brick-red face, Blaine observed, and matched Lauren's dress.

Actually, looking around, everyone had done a fairly decent job of matching their colors together. Santana, at least, hadn't gone with the red silk dress she'd originally been planning on- it would have clashed horrifically with Brittany's. Instead, she's opted for an off-white, almost cream-colored slim-fitted, lacy ensemble that went with Brittany's nicely.

Nobody matched as well as Kurt and Blaine, of course, but that was to be expected.

What stumped him, however, was the fact that Artie and Quinn's clothing matched. She was in a lovely light blue number, and his bow tie matched the shade of her dress. Were they dates? It seemed the most unlikely, out-of-the-blue couple he'd ever seen- but then again, this was the same group that had spawned Artie and Brittany, and Puck and Lauren. Stranger things had happened.

Kurt, as usual, seemed to be inside his brain. "So are you two... dates, then?" he asked, gesturing between Quinn and Artie, the only couple sitting across the table from each other rather than next to each other.

"Friends," Quinn said firmly. "We're going as friends."

Blaine exchanged a quick, dubious look with Kurt and then bent his head to study the menu once more. A part of him wondered why Quinn hadn't told him beforehand- after all, he was fairly certain he was her best friend. At least, the only person she actually ever _talked_ to.

Kurt had that look on his face again- the stone face, a slight crinkle in his brow the only sign of emotion in his expression. It meant he was trying to figure something out, and from the way he was staring at Brittany and Santana, then Artie, Blaine could guess what it was.

Kurt managed to make it all the way past ordering the entrees before he stood up, grabbing Santana's arm and dragging her away from the table for interrogation. Blaine watched them go, shaking his head slightly. There was a short, awkward silence around the table before Finn coughed uncomfortably and conversation resumed- not without a concerted effort. Blaine kept his eye on the door.

Ten minutes later, Kurt slipped back into the seat next to him. Blaine leaned in. "Care to fill me in?"

"It's complicated," Kurt murmured back, "and Santana doesn't let information go easily, you know what. But from what I gather, Artie was actually completely, one hundred percent selfless. And that was _Santana _telling me that, and she isn't exactly the type to see the best in people."

"So Artie just... let Brittany go?" It seemed unlikely to Blaine; he'd seen how in love with Brittany Artie was.

"From what Santana told me, it sounds more like... like Artie knew he couldn't keep Brittany, because he knew some part of her heart would always belong to Santana. It must have hurt him to do it, but he did. I'm somewhat impressed with him, to be honest."

Both of them glanced over to the wheel-chair ridden boy.

"As am I," Blaine murmured. "That takes a lot of courage."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You and courage." Their pinkies twined together under the table.

They were the last arrive to Prom, too, although they were the first to leave the restaurant. Blaine blamed this one entirely on Kurt and his ability to be completely irresistible.

By previous agreement, Santana sipped her arm through Kurt's and Brittany slipped hers through Blaine's as they reached the door. It wasn't as if they were going to hide who they were with, but all four of them had agreed that their chances of actually getting _in_ the doors would increase dramatically if they paired off in opposite-sex couples. Once through the doors, Blaine reached out to take Kurt's hand, squeezing it gently.

The gym was utterly unrecognizable.

Blaine wished he could actually get a good look at the decorations, but to do that, he'd have to actually tear his eyes away from Kurt, and he wasn't about to do _that_. Kurt's eyes were large, bright, full of awe, as he gazed around the gym. As he turned his head to look at Blaine, Blaine's heart kicked it up a few beats.

God, he was so _crazy_ in love with this boy, it was unbelievable.

"Where's our table?" Kurt asked, turning to Santana, who had linked pinkies with Brittany after the girls had released Kurt's and Blaine's arms.

Brittany was the one who pointed. Finn was standing, towering over the rest of the group. As they watched, he offered his hand out to Rachel. They were the first couple out on the floor, centering themselves directly below the rotating disco ball.

Blaine looked back to Kurt, and was surprised to find his boyfriend with an uncharacteristically nervous expression on his face. "If you don't want to, that's fine," Kurt said quickly, "but I was wondering if you might want to... dance with me?"

He was fidgeting with his tie, a sure sign that he was anxious about Blaine's answer, about being _rejected_ by Blaine.

"I'd love nothing more," Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand once more, and Kurt's smile was like sunlight.

Blaine was sure there were whispers. He was sure there were people glaring at them or cracking their knuckles ominously. He was sure there were disgusted words and offensive slurs being thrown around.

And maybe those threats and menacing glares would have been acted on, except that Sam and Mercedes had appeared on one side of them, and Finn and Rachel were moving in to dance on the other, and then Puck and Lauren and Mike and Tina were there too. Even Brittany and Santana, standing the closest to them for their own protection (needing less than Kurt and Blaine because they weren't out as a couple yet and because of the ridiculous double-standards of this school and society in general, but still needing _some _protection as a precaution).

Blaine sighed, pressing his face against Kurt's neck. "I love you," he murmured into the skin there, and felt Kurt's body shudder in response.

The song ended, and a faster one began- a strange mash-up of "Like a G6" and "Kids". Mercedes and Rachel tugged Kurt away to dance with them, leaving Blaine standing alone and uncertain on the dance floor.

Quinn was in front of him suddenly, one arm draped around his neck, the other coming to rest on his hip. "Care to dance? I don't regret coming with Artie, but his wheelchair makes it a little difficult to slow dance."

"It'd be my pleasure," Blaine replied, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Look, Blaine," Quinn said, then hesitated.

He looked at her patiently.

"If anyone gives you _any_ trouble, you need to tell me." Scary Quinn was frightening beyond belief when directed at him, but when it was being used in his _defense_... well, it was actually kind of nice.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Blaine said, "but thank you."

"Karofsky's been strangely quiet lately," Quinn said, her eyes searching his. She was too clever not to be able to figure it out on her own, especially now that she wasn't wrapped up in her own boy drama. "He has been since..."

Her voice slowed. He could see the pieces clicking together in her head. Her mouth fell open slightly and her grip around his neck tightened for a short second.

"Karofsky's... Karofsky's in love with Kurt, isn't he?" Quinn asked, although it didn't really seem like a question. (1)

Blaine closed his eyes for a second. "I don't know if he's in love with him," he said, quietly. "How in love with someone can you be if you cause them pain every single day? And even if he is- even if I didn't feel that way about Kurt- even if Kurt and I weren't together- I wouldn't want Karofsky anywhere near Kurt in any case. Anyone who lashes out and tries to terrify and hurt a person that they're _in love with_ is someone who needs serious help."

"I would never, ever want Karofsky and Kurt together," Quinn said quietly. "I just- I don't understand, is Karofsky _gay_?"

Blaine hesitated. "I can't say for sure," he said. "Although it appears that way, yes."

"Oh, wow," Quinn said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Oh, my- that- that changes things. And you know? Does Kurt know?"

Blaine flexed his fingers a little. "Kurt was the first to know."

"How long have you known?" Quinn asked, her mouth still thin, the skin around her eyes tight.

"Since November," Blaine admitted.

Quinn's nails unexpectedly dug into his neck and he yelped, jumping a little.

"_And you didn't tell anyone_?" she hissed.

"Firstly, that was before I knew Kurt very well, and he maintained that he didn't want his dad to worry- that was right after his dad's heart attack- and that just having me there was enough. And I was stupid and felt flattered and _important_ that I could mentor this boy who was having bully issues because god knew I'd had enough of them. And secondly, it isn't my secret to tell, nor is it Kurt's. Neither of us believe in outing people. Karofsky needs to come out on his own time."

"Both of you are certainly less manipulative than any of the rest of us would be in this situation," Quinn said thoughtfully. "And far less violent. I can't imagine what Finn or Santana would do if they found out that Karofsky had been picking on Kurt because _he's _a closeted gay." She stopped, tilted her head in thought. "How did you find out, anyway?"

Blaine cringed. He'd been hoping to avoid that question. "He kissed Kurt," he mumbled.

Quinn actually broke away from Blaine at that, taking a few steps backwards in shock. "_What_?" she said.

"Kurt took my terrible advice and followed Karofsky into an empty locker room to yell at him for being an ignorant jerk. And he thought Karofsky was going to punch him, and instead he kissed him." Blaine shifted a little anxiously from foot to foot. "God, Kurt's going to kill me."

"I'm not going to _tell_ anyone," Quinn huffed. "Who would I tell? I only really talk to you anymore." Her eyes softened. "Just, think about telling someone, okay? Karofsky might have stopped now, but if he likes Kurt, who knows what he could end up doing to you?"

The song came to an end, and she stepped away from him. "Don't forget that, okay?" she said, before heading back to her date.

Blaine felt shaky. That whole conversation, Quinn's words- they were bouncing around in his head, making his vision blurry and his legs shaky and-

"Hey, stranger," said a somewhat flirty voice from behind him. He turned around to see Kurt standing there, and for a moment the fear faded.

He didn't think he'd ever really be able to get over looking at Kurt, particularly in this setting. Surrounded by boys in ill-fitting tuxes used at thousands of proms and weddings before, he looked almost _unreal_ in his perfection. Somehow, in some way, the people at the school couldn't see that, and it was their loss- it meant more for Blaine to keep to himself.

"Hi," Blaine said, pushing aside his and Quinn's conversation, replacing the feeling of shock and anxiety with a feeling of bashfulness. He couldn't quite place his finger on _why_ he was feeling so suddenly shy- it was just Kurt, after all- except that Kurt looked so utterly perfect and heart achingly beautiful that for one wild moment, Blaine thought, _there's no way he's real. There's no way he's actually mine. _

The lights were flashing across Kurt's skin, patterning it red, blue, yellow, purple; he looked surreal in the strange lighting of the gym. A balloon popped by Blaine's feet, but he barely flinched. His mind was everywhere- mostly on Kurt, but then there was that tiny smidgen of Quinn still left over, and a small corner of his brain that was always reserved for his twin sister.

He was so distracted that he almost didn't register the familiar opening chords of the song playing over the speakers, until a very familiar voice began to sing.

_You think I'm pretty without any makeup on..._

The smile that covered Kurt's face was absolutely breathtakingly beautiful. He held out his hand. "I've always had this dream about dancing with you to our song."

Blaine took his hand without hesitation, wrapping his arms around Kurt's shoulders and pressing their cheeks together until his lips were right by Kurt's ear. "Is this our song, then?"

"Despite my personal feelings about this particular singer, I'm resigned to the fact that I will forever think of this song as ours," Kurt said, leading Blaine so they revolved in a slow circle in the center of the floor. "It was what made me fall for you, anyway."

He already knew that. He did. And yet that didn't stop his hands from shaking against Kurt's back.

_You make me feel like I'm living a teenage dream_

_ The way you turn me on_

_ I can't sleep, let's run away and don't ever look back,_

_ don't ever look back_

For some reason, his thoughts drifted to Jane. Here he was, slow dancing at his Prom with a boy he was head-over-heels in love with to _their song_, and all he could think of was how _hurt_ Jane's face had looked when she'd said, _"I'm never going to have this, Blaine! I'm never going to have Junior Prom and I'm never going to have friends like yours and who knows, maybe I'll never have someone like Kurt either!" _

"I have an idea," he said, his mouth close to Kurt's ear so Kurt would be able to hear him. "Do you mind getting out of here a little early? We'd still be able to dance together."

"As long as you don't mind missing the announcement of Prom King and Queen."

Blaine waved a dismissive hand. "I don't. Do you?"

Kurt shook his head as he pulled away, a smile dimpling his chin and cheeks. "It's not as if either of us could have won."

"Do you think anyone else would come with us?" Blaine asked.

"Depends on what you're planning," Santana said from behind them, slipping an arm through Kurt's as she joined the conversation. Nearby, Quinn stopped dancing with Artie to listen.

"You know how I have... a twin sister, right?" Blaine asked, fully aware of Puck and Lauren's presence off to the side, both of them listening in as well.

"Jane," Quinn said, nodding.

He took a deep breath. "Because of her osteogenesis imperfecta, she's never going to get to go to a public school. She's never going to get to have a Junior Prom."

There was a moment of silence in which Kurt eyed him thoughtfully before he spoke. "So we bring Prom _to_ Jane."

Blaine's shoulders sagged in relief. As always, Kurt was on the same page. "Only if all of you don't mind giving up your own Prom a little early."

Puck snorted loudly at that. "This dance blows anyway. There's nothing kosher on the buffet table and Coach Sylvester is watching it like a hawk so I can't spike the punch."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'll go get Mike and Tina. They won't mind going, they can just as easily make out outside of Prom as they can _at_ Prom."

Blaine turned away so nobody would see him laugh at that.

In the end, even Rachel and Finn agreed to leave the Prom to go to Blaine's. Blaine thought he saw Karofsky glaring at them from across the room, but he didn't think Kurt noticed, so he said nothing.

Quinn locked eyes with him, and he could immediately see that she _had_ seen that.

They piled into Blaine's car, Finn's rental, and Mike's van, following somewhat confusing instructions back to Blaine's house (Blaine had never really been good at giving or receiving directions).

The house was dark when they pulled into Blaine's driveway at midnight (Prom had to have been over for at least half an hour)- Blaine's parents were most likely asleep.

Blaine and Kurt slipped out of the car, straightening their tuxes.

"Turn on the stereo. Turn it up as loudly as it will go, and roll down all the windows," Blaine instructed Quinn, Santana, and Brittany, who were sitting in the back seat. "Kurt and I will go get Jane."

"Wait," Santana said, before either of them could leave. She hesitated for a moment, then reached into the shopping bag at her feet, withdrawing a mass of red silk. "It's the dress I bought before I knew I was going with Brittany," she said, by way of explanation. "It'll probably be big on her, but every girl deserves a pretty dress on their prom, right?"

Santana was a bitch nearly all the time, but it was times like these that Blaine remembered exactly why Kurt was so close to her.

"She'll love it," he said softly, taking it from her. "Thank you."

They crept up the stairs quietly as the music started up from outside- they could hear the bass pumping and the sound of Mercedes belting along with the words of the popular rock song.

Jane's door was the second on the left at the top of the staircase. A thin strip of light shining out from under the door showed that she was still awake, so Blaine knocked.

Her tired voice answered. "Come in, Mom."

Blaine turned the knob and walked in, Kurt close on his heels. Jane looked up, surprise flitting across her face. "You're home early."

"We left early," Blaine said, shrugging and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Kurt stepped forward, Santana's dress in his hands. "Would you put this on?" he asked, holding it out to her. "We have a surprise for you outside."

It spoke volumes in terms of Jane's complete trust in Kurt in that she didn't ask a single question. "It won't fit me."

"I'll do some quick tailoring with safety pins," Kurt promised. "It'll look fabulous by the time I'm done."

After a minute, she nodded, moving behind the privacy screen in the corner of her room to yank the dress over her head.

Both she and Santana had been right- the dress was large on her. It was mostly too long and too big in the chest, however- after all, Santana was a very thin girl. An easy fix, in any case. Kurt helped her hold the dress up to keep from tripping or falling as they followed Blaine back down the stairs.

The pumping bass grew louder the closer they drew to the front of the house, and Blaine offered a quick prayer in thanks that his parents' room was soundproofed and the closest neighbors were a good quarter-mile away. Jane's eyes grew wider and wider with every step. Blaine squeezed her hand a little before reaching out, and sweeping the front door open.

Blaine thought Jane's eyes might fall out of her head.

He could also understand why. Puck was standing on the hood of the car, going wild on the air guitar. Quinn was laughing and dancing with Artie (who was doing the best he could, really), and Mike was twirling Tina around in Blaine's driveway. Brittany and Santana were cuddling on the hood of Blaine's car. Sam and Mercedes were laughing as they took turns belting the lyrics of _All I Ever Wanted_ to each other.

"What is this?" Jane whispered, taking a few steps forward, her eyes greedily drinking in the scene before her. "Blaine?"

"You told me you'd never be able to go to Prom," Blaine said. "I didn't forget that, you know."

"And this..." Jane said, looking lost.

"And this is Prom," Blaine said. "For you."

Sam let go of Mercedes' hand, stepping forward and smiling gently as he bent down to look Jane in the eye. "Jane?"

She turned her still-wide eyes to him.

"I'm Sam." He held out his hand. "Would you like to dance with me? I know your bones are fragile. I'll be careful."

"I-" she stammered a little, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. "I-okay. Yes." She took his outstretched hand.

The grin that stretched across Mercedes' face as she watched Sam carefully whirl Jane around was beautiful, and Kurt filed it away to question Mercedes about later.

"Do you want to dance?" Kurt asked Blaine, before turning to look at his boyfriend.

Blaine's eyes were shining. He was gazing at his sister and Sam dancing together with a soft smile on his face, and there was a sudden lump in Kurt's throat. He let the question die out at the end, forgetting what he'd even been asking because Blaine was _so goddamn beautiful_.

"No," Blaine said, looking at Kurt. Kurt hadn't thought Blaine had even been listening. "No. I think I just want to sit here and watch this."

Kurt couldn't begrudge him that.

Blaine sat down on the top step, leaning against one of the columns of the porch to watch their friends dance around, their laughter drowned out by the pulsing bass. Kurt hovered a moment, uncertain of what, exactly, to do, until Blaine looked up and held his arms open. "Come here."

Gratefully, happily, Kurt snuggled himself into Blaine's arms, settling against Blaine's chest and tilting his head to watch the party going on in Blaine's driveway.

Sam had passed Jane off to Artie, who was spinning her around in his wheelchair. She was laughing in delight, looking every bit like a small child during their first ride on a merry-go-round. Puck was hanging out of Blaine's car, shuffling through his ipod, shooting Kurt and Blaine what Kurt was sure were meant to be covert looks.

Kurt felt too lazy and happy to try to wonder what Puck was up to, or to feel suspicious at all. He merely cuddled into Blaine even more, letting his eyes drift shut. The song changed, and Blaine's chest began rumbling as he laughed.

_Well, it started with your hips, then I moved up to your lips_

_ to take a chance, asked for a dance_

_ Cuz you're the cutest thing on this side of the world_

He couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face. Puck _would_ remember that this was the song Blaine and Kurt had sung and danced to together at Regionals, right after Kurt had blindsided Blaine with his declaration of love. A squeeze of Blaine's arms around his middle told Kurt that Blaine was remembering, too.

Kurt let his eyelids crack open a millimeter. Sam was twirling Mercedes around, and Kurt felt his heart swell at the look of pure _joy_ on her face. He hadn't seen Mercedes that happy in... well... _ever_. And he knew Sam fairly well, and he knew Blaine was close with Sam, and he knew that they could end up being perfect for each other.

He wouldn't push. He'd done enough interfering with Mercedes' love life to last a lifetime. But he would _most definitely_ be asking her about it later.

Puck danced over to them, doing this odd sort of move that involved his fists pumping the air like he was slamming them on a table. Kurt decided not to ask.

"So no after party at my house," he called to them, much louder than he needed to. "Cuz it's, like, 2 in the morning right now anyway."

Well that, at least, explained why Kurt felt so sleepy.

"We can always crash here," Blaine said back, at a much more reasonable volume. "We have a lot of extra rooms in my house and my parents won't mind."

"Seriously, dude?" Puck said, throwing a horrifically scarring leer at Lauren, who was dancing suggestively (also equally as scarring, although Kurt would have been just as disturbed to see _anyone_ in the Glee club dancing that way, with the exception of Blaine). "Your parents would be chill with that?"

"My parents would love the fact that I have _friends_," Blaine joked. "Yeah. Just, keep it PG, okay? I don't want to have to explain stained sheets to my parents in the morning."

Kurt felt the back of his neck burn, but Puck just laughed. "Noted, dude."

"You are just as bad as them sometimes," Kurt said loudly, and felt Blaine's chest quake again as he laughed.

"Are you tired?" Blaine asked, petting his head.

"No," Kurt insisted, the word drawing out into a yawn.

Blaine laughed again.

Rachel was asleep on Finn's shoulder; he was looking at her with a fond expression on his face. Quinn was twirling Jane around, but she, too, seemed to have less energy than before.

Blaine gestured for Sam to pause the music, and he let go of Mercedes to do so.

"You guys can all crash here," Blaine called as Rachel stirred against Finn's shoulder. "Just make sure your parents know so they don't think you've been kidnapped or got in a car accident or something, and keep your post-prom bedroom activities PG."

"Only if you and Kurt promise to," Rachel said sleepily, and Kurt buried his face into Blaine's neck as the rest of the club laughed, Jane included.

Blaine hoisted Kurt up. "Come on, let's get to my room."

"Your parents are okay with us sharing a bed?" Kurt asked. Everything was fuzzy-looking, and he swayed a little on his feet. "I feel _drunk_, Blaine."

"That's because you're really tired. You probably sugar-crashed," Blaine said, slipping an arm around Kurt's waist. "Yes, my parents are okay with us sharing a bed. We've shared before, remember?"

"No," Kurt said, sagging against Blaine. "But this time we get to share a bed and it's okay for me to cuddle against you because you know I love you and I know you love meeee."

Blaine pressed his lips together against his smile as he helped Kurt through the front door. It'd been a while since he'd seen sleepy Kurt, and he'd almost forgotten how adorable the boy was when all his defenses had been let down.

"Up the stairs," he whispered, guiding his boyfriend through each step. "My room isn't far."

"_And_ you have a soft bed," Kurt added, "and it smells like sheep."

"I- what?" Blaine didn't exactly ever make a habit of sniffing livestock, but he was fairly certain that smelling like sheep wasn't a compliment.

"No, I meant it feels like sheep, dammit," Kurt said, looking unnecessarily frustrated.

Blaine's heart clenched fondly at the look of childlike vexation on Kurt's face. "It's okay, Kurt, I'm not mad."

"It _smells_ like happiness," Kurt mumbled, letting Blaine guide him through the doorway. "Are we there yet?"

"Do you want to borrow some pajamas?" Blaine asked, moving Kurt to the bed so he could lie down. "I think I have some that are a little too big that might fit you."

"Do they smell like you?" Kurt asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "I only wan' ones that smell like you."

This boy was seriously _going_ to be the death of him.

He turned around while Kurt dressed- honestly, sleepy Kurt had _no_ sense of modesty like awake Kurt did- and then slipped into bed beside him. It wasn't until he was lying side-by-side with his boyfriend that he felt awkward, because, well, this was a little bit newer territory. What was he supposed to do?

His question was answered for him when Kurt pressed up against his back and slipped an arm around his waist, cuddling their bodies together. "I call big spoon," he announced in an adorably lispy way that actually made Blaine's stomach twist up.

Despite his pounding heart, it didn't take Blaine long to settle into a stage of half-sleep. He could hear it when the music shut off outside, could hear soft voices and footsteps as people crept up the stairs and into various guest rooms, but part of his brain was already dreaming.

The first time he'd imagined Prom, he'd been eight years old, and his fantasy included slow-dancing with a handsome prince to the song _Someday My Prince Will Come_ from Snow White (he was eight, okay, give him a break). He'd imagined a kiss on the hand at the end of the night and a bouquet of roses.

Prom hadn't gone as expected. Before tonight, he hadn't expected to leave Prom before it was even halfway over. He hadn't expected to start his own sort of anti-prom in his driveway, and have it turn out better (at least in his eyes) than the actual Prom, just because of the look in his twin sister's eyes as she was twirled around the driveway by his friends. Just because even though he didn't get some slightly tipsy action in the laundry room at Puck's, he was still cuddled up to the boy of his dreams, who was more adorable and handsome and wonderful and _real_ than any Disney prince was.

Prom hadn't been what he'd expected, but that was okay, because it had been _better_.

**A/N: (1) I know this seems unexpected and out of the blue, for Quinn to figure it out. But Quinn is a smart girl. And I know that if she hadn't been so caught up in her Finn/Rachel drama, she would have figured it out just like Santana did. **

**Meh, not into that ending, but yanno. Whatever.**

**Is it obvious that I ship Samcedes or**


	27. A Visit, Nationals, and Taking Chances

**A/N: Forewarning- this chapter leans more towards the M-rated side of PG-13. Beware, younger readers who are skittish with that. **

**I can't believe I got this up before the actual episode! This is going to (most likely) be the second-to-last chapter. The penultimate one, if you will. Wow. It's been a ride. **

**I'm sorry it took so long to post up, guys!**

**LAST EPISODE OF GLEE TONIGHT. *sobs* Who's excited! I actually haven't looked at _any_ songs or any kind of spoilers for this episode. I want a total surprise! I also refuse to go on Tumblr for a few hours beforehand.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee!**

Kurt sat at his vanity, brushing a moisturizing cloth across his face, humming along with the cassette tape that was crackling out old music. He normally didn't take out the tapes much- they were his mother's, and he was too afraid of wearing them down. But today was kind of a special day.

The track switched, and his heart swelled up a little as the music started- this had always been his mother's favorite; it suited both of them so perfectly. He opened his mouth to softly sing along with the words, letting his eyes fall closed. The voice from the tape spoke in the odd sing-talk way that was so common in musicals, and the familiarity of it was comforting to him.

_In life, one has to face a huge assortment_

_ Of nauseating fads and good advice_

_ There's health and fitness, diet and deportment_

_ And other pointless forms of sacrifice_

He felt the smile start to spread across his lips, his eyes still closed as he remembered his mother's broad grin as she twirled him around her walk-in closet, singing to him.

_Conversation? Wit? I am a doubter_

_ Manners? Charm? They're no way to impress._

_ So forget the inner me, observe the outer_

_ I am what I wear… and how I dress…_

His foot began to tap against the leg of the vanity, he quite forgot Blaine, who was waiting for him in the other room.

_Oh, now, I believe in looking like my time on earth is cooking_

_ Whether polka dotted, striped, or even checked_

_ With the some glamour guaranteeing, every fiber on of my being_

_ Is displayed to quite remarkable effect_

He could almost _hear_ his mother's voice over the voice of the singer, trilling out the notes, a little pitchy sometimes but still unexplainably lovely.

_I would rather wear a barrel, than conservative apparel_

_ For dress has always been… my strongest suit._

_ Whether wig or hat or turban, whether clad boudoir or urban_

_ Not to strut your stuff outrageously's a crime_

_ And the few who are invited to my wardrobe are delighted_

_ As they wander through my things to find en route_

_ That in negligee or formal, I am anything but normal_

_ For my dress has always been my strongest suit…_

He realized as the song ended that it was the first time in a long time that he had made it through the entire song without shedding or tear, or even becoming teary-eyed.

He could still hear the faint sounds of the movie Blaine was watching in Kurt's bedroom, drifting around the corner- Blaine must have had the volume turned down low. If he leaned towards the mirror and angled it a little, he could see the reflection of Blaine sprawled out across his bed, watching Lady and the Tramp for the billionth time. He felt an unexpected rush of affection at the way Blaine was clutching one of Kurt's throw pillows, cuddling into it as Lady and Tramp shared a kiss over their plate of spaghetti.

He stood up, pressing the stop button on his tape recorder before he left the bathroom. "What do you think?" he asked, stepping in front of the bed and holding out his arms for Blaine's approval.

It wasn't like asking his dad what he thought about Kurt's clothing. Burt would cough and make some vague, non-committal remark after barely looking at the outfit, because it didn't matter to him and he didn't understand anyway.

Blaine was different. He paused the movie and rolled back to let his eyes drift up from Kurt's feet all the way to his face. He tilted his head to the side, his gaze thoughtful, and his eyes ran up and down Kurt's body a few more times.

"I like it," he said finally, a smile quirking his lips up. He sat up, swinging his legs over so he was seated on the edge of the bed, and made grabby hands for Kurt. "It's refined and classy. And_ purple_."

"And you needed to look me up and down four times to come to that conclusion?" Kurt asked dryly, taking a step forward to let Blaine's hands come to rest on his hips.

"Definitely," Blaine said firmly. "Although the last three may have been less about the clothes and more about what's underneath them." He lowered his voice at that, adopting a coy sort of tone that made Kurt grin and look at his feet.

"Really, now," he said, and _god_, Blaine loved it when his voice got like that, all flirty and a little lispy.

"Really," Blaine whispered, his voice going low and sort of throaty the way it always did before he kissed Kurt. And sure enough, he was leaning up, and Kurt smiled before closing the gap and pressing his mouth against Blaine's gently.

"Any explanation for the conservative outfit?" Blaine asked, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against Kurt's stomach.

Kurt was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was careful. "I thought we might… visit my mom today."

Blaine's eyes flew open. He tipped his head back to look up at his boyfriend, his hands tightening on Kurt's hips. "Really?"

Kurt nodded, sliding his lips together a little nervously. "Do you- I mean, you don't mind, right? You didn't have anything else planned for us?"

Blaine stood up, sliding his fingers down Kurt's arms to grip Kurt's hands in his. "Kurt, I would love nothing more than meeting your mom."

Their fingers threaded together.

He didn't wear black to visit his mom. He'd worn black at his mother's funeral, out of consciousness of the expectations of society, but he hadn't worn black to her grave since then. His mother had never liked the color.

Blaine's long pea coat swished around his calves, brushing the overgrown grass as they headed across the graveyard. It was unseasonably cold for May, and his collar was turned up around his neck.

Every few seconds, he'd chance a glance at Kurt. Kurt's face was closed off, cold. He was staring straight ahead. His fingers were stiff in Blaine's.

Blaine was surprised when they stopped walking- Kurt had described his mother's gravesite to him, and they didn't seem to be anywhere near someplace that looked as Kurt had described.

Kurt was still staring unblinkingly forward, but his hand was like a vice around Blaine's. When he finally spoke, his voice was the shaky whisper it always was when he was upset and trying not to show it.

"Does it make me a terrible person if I dread this every time?" He laughed a little, but the sound was choked, forced.

Blaine didn't answer right away. "No," he said finally.

The breath Kurt let out was long, shaky. "Okay."

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," Blaine reminded him gently. "If you aren't ready to take me to your mother's resting place, I understand."

"No," Kurt said, his voice certain. "No. I want you to meet her. I just-" he took a deep breath. "It doesn't feel like her, you know? Going to a rock in the middle of a field to visit her. It would be more real to go to… a cross country course. A library. The makeup counter at a Sephora. Not here."

"You don't want to remember her like this," Blaine said softly. "I understand."

Kurt's hand relaxed a little around his. "We can keep walking."

They began to walk again.

"Do you think your mom knew you were gay?" Blaine asked.

"Yes," Kurt said immediately. "I'm sure she did. She must have, if Dad knew." He hesitated a minute, and Blaine saw the corner of his mouth tilt upwards. "She would have absolutely adored you, Blaine."

He felt a rush of heat spread through his chest. He was absolutely sure that was, bar none, the best compliment he'd _ever_ received.

"I'm glad," he said, once he'd regained the ability to speak.

They climbed a small hill, at the top of which sat a tree, its branches spreading up and out into the vanilla sky. It looked young- no more than a few decades old.

The marble of the gravestone underneath it was pale, reflective in the muted sunlight. The lettering on the stone was hard, black. Kurt knelt before the stone, laying down the sunflowers he was holding in his right hand. His left stayed clasped with Blaine's.

"Hi, Mum," he said, brushing his free hand over the face of the stone. He turned to look back at Blaine. "This feels wrong. It doesn't feel like her. It never does."

Blaine tugged Kurt up, pulling him into his arms. He led them both past the stone to lean against the tree, sliding them down the trunk until they were seated on the ground.

"Close your eyes," Blaine whispered, tucking his head over Kurt's shoulder and pressing their cheeks together. "And talk to her."

Kurt followed his instructions, relaxing into Blaine's embrace.

"Hi Mama," he whispered, and Blaine closed his eyes too, wrapping his arms more tightly around his boyfriend.

"Nationals in only a few weeks," Kurt continued. "I don't think any of us are working hard enough, but that's the way this club operates, I guess. I'm excited to go to New York, Mama. I've never been and neither has Blaine."

A little tremor ran through Blaine's body at the sound of his name on Kurt's lips, and Kurt paused.

"This is Blaine, Mama," he said, his voice low and soft. "I've told you about him before, but I wanted him to meet you."

Blaine could feel the moment when Kurt really let go, forgot Blaine and the world and just spoke to his mother. "I know Dad worries about me because it's so hard sometimes, and I know you must worry about me too. But I don't feel alone anymore, because I have him. I found him, Mama, he's _it_ for me. I love him. I-I can't get any clearer than that. I just- I know you would love him, if you were here." He let out a shuddering breath.

Blaine pressed soft lips against the junction of Kurt's shoulder and neck. "Can I say something to her?" he whispered against Kurt's ear.

Kurt sucked in a sharp breath. "If you like."

Blaine's fingers wove through Kurt's and he squeezed once, briefly, before speaking. "Mrs. Hummel?" He only felt ridiculous for a moment before he felt it. _Something_ there, something bigger than him and Kurt, something intangible, something vast and unreal and unexplainable. Then it was easy. "My name is Blaine. And I'm in love with your son. And he's it for me, just like he said I'm it for him. I know we're young, Mrs. Hummel, and I know that might worry you, but I _know_ how I feel about your son and I know that- this is forever."

Kurt let out a breathy "oh".

Blaine turned his head a little to whisper in Kurt's ear. "I love you." That was not for Mrs. Hummel- that was for Kurt.

"I believe you," Kurt said, his voice shy.

"Let me ask you something," Blaine said hesitantly. He knew that Kurt didn't believe in God or organized religion. "When I talked to your mom, it felt like... something was there. Something-" he struggled for a second as his words failed him.

Kurt sagged against him completely, his fingers gripping the backs of Blaine's hands. "You feel it, too," he sighed, his head slumping against Blaine's.

"It _sounds_ ridiculous, and I can't explain it, but-"

"It's there," Kurt finished. "It's the only thing that keeps me from disregarding spirituality completely." He stood up, brushing his pants off, then offered a hand to Blaine. "Ready to go?"

He felt his mom slip away from them as they walked away away, and reached for Blaine's hand, letting the pull of one person disappear as the pull of another took over.

xxxxx

Things changed after Kurt brought Blaine with him to meet his mother.

It was as if the final barrier had been broken- like there was nothing else between them, no secrets, no hesitations. Any tiny, lingering traces of discomfort were gone. They trusted each other more than they trusted anyone else they knew.

Because of this, things got a little more... heated between them. In the weeks that passed between Prom and Nationals, things progressed until at least partial nudity was a common occurrence between the boys. Until they were both comfortable enough with their own bodies that they were willing to show them to the one person who could tear them down. Things progressed from light touching and looking to tasting and holding, to actually getting _off_ with each other, gasping broken sentences into each other's mouths as they shuddered and shook and fell apart in each other's arms.

And it felt good- better than either of them had ever expected. And it wasn't long before Kurt realized he was ready for _more_- more of this, more of Blaine. He trusted him. He loved him. The only thing he _wasn't_ sure about was whether or not Blaine was ready. They hadn't revisited the topic in a serious conversation in a few months- and actual _sex_ was far different from hand jobs and blow jobs.

He wasn't exactly sure how to approach it with Blaine, so he kept his mouth shut (figuratively speaking), and focused on Nationals as it drew closer and closer.

Neither of them were going to get a solo at Nationals, which Kurt had fully expected, but he still shed a few bitter tears over that fact. Mr. Schuester's explanation was lukewarm, at best—Blaine was too new, and Kurt's voice "wasn't quite what they were going for".

He'd put up a front of cold indifference, of course, because that's what he was good at and that's what he was known for. He was only mildly shocked when the parts went to Puck and Santana rather than Finn and Rachel, and felt much more willing to congratulate _them _ than he would've had it been the dynamic duo.

Finn sulked for a while, but he wasn't using this big performance to win over a girl as he had been last year—he already _had_ Rachel. It wasn't as big of a disappointment to him as it was to Rachel.

In any case, it was fairly easy to semi-forcefully blackmail Mr. Schuester into allowing Blaine and Kurt to share a room (with Finn and Sam, but he'd take what he could get) by reminding him of the anti-discrimination policy that had recently instated in the show choir rule book and vaguely insinuating that he might be discriminating against them due to their sexual orientation.

Finn asked, in his typical foot-in-mouth way, if they would keep it PG while he and Sam were in the room, because, "I'm really supportive of you two and happy for you and all that, but I really don't want to hear that, dude."

They almost missed the plane, too.

There'd apparently been some commotion or drama with Karofsky—Finn had tried to explain, but Kurt had cut him off, saying he didn't really want to know—and Puck hadn't shown up to the choir room until literally seconds before they were supposed to leave for the airport.

They had first class tickets—apparently, there was some story about Mr. Schuester's crazy ex-wife that made Blaine glad that he and Kurt were less involved than everyone else in the general drama of New Directions.

Kurt and Blaine claimed seats beside each other, Quinn and Mercedes taking the two in the row behind them. Puck and Sam took the row of seats across from them, Puck winking lewdly at them in a way that made Kurt feel simultaneously disturbed and afraid.

Blaine's head tipped onto his shoulder almost as soon as the plane took off, letting out a barely audible sigh.

Kurt looked down at him. "You okay?"

"I don't like planes very much," Blaine admitted, his hand tight on Kurt's arm.

For some reason, this was strangely endearing to Kurt, that his boyfriend had an irrational, childlike fear. Maybe because Blaine's life had already been so heavy with rational fears that the silly flying anxiety made Kurt feel like there was something he could _help _with.

"I didn't know that," Kurt said, squeezing his hand. "I've been on a plane with you before."

"I didn't want you to think I was a wimp," Blaine said quietly. "We weren't dating at the time. I was kind of trying to impress you."

"You don't have to work to impress me," Kurt said softly. "Is it odd that I find it sort of… endearing?"

A small smile appeared on Blaine's lips. "Really?"

Kurt folded up the armrest, letting Blaine tuck himself into Kurt's side further. "Just sleep. We'll be there before you know it."

Kurt was right- mostly because the flight was only an hour and a half long. He shook Blaine awake before touchdown.

Blaine had already had a billion and a half opportunities to see sleepy Kurt, and had told Kurt often how adorable he found it. Now Kurt could see the appeal. Blaine was yawning and rubbing his fists against his eyes, and it made an unexpected wave of protectiveness wash over Kurt.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," he teased.

"It's the afternoon," Blaine insisted, in the petulant way of someone who's just woken up.

"You're cute," Kurt said, grinning, enjoying the way Blaine's cheeks flushed red at the compliment.

"Lovebirds," Tina called, "we need to get off the plane."

Kurt tugged his carry-on bag from the overhead compartment as Blaine's hand found his, and together, they left the plane.

The hotel room wasn't a dive, exactly—it just wasn't the most attractive of places. The double beds were small, which made Sam and Finn look vaguely uncomfortable, and had the opposite effect on Kurt and Blaine. They dumped the suitcases on the bed, then the four of them turned to look at each other.

"So, lunch?" Finn asked awkwardly. "I can see if Rachel wants to go."

"Good idea," Kurt said happily, clapping his hands a little. "We could see if Mercedes wants to come, too!"

Kurt may have missed the way Sam turned a little pink and looked shyly at the floor, but Blaine certainly didn't.

"Why don't you two go ask them?" Blaine said, keeping his eyes on Sam. Finn bounced out of the room like the overgrown puppy Blaine was convinced he was. Kurt cast a questioning glance between the two of them, but followed Finn from the room.

"So," Blaine said quietly. "Mercedes, huh?"

Sam let out a heavy breath. "I think… I really like her."

"You know Kurt will kill you if you hurt her, right?" Blaine asked, only half-joking.

"Dude, I know you weren't here for like, _any_ of the drama that happened at McKinley this year, but Quinn pretty much ripped my heart out," Sam said seriously, holding Blaine's gaze. "I won't do that to Mercedes. I couldn't do that to her."

"I believe you," Blaine said after a moment. "Look, Sam, out of all the glee guys besides Kurt, I know you the best. And you're the only one I'd trust with Mercedes' heart. But I'm not the one who'd seriously maim you if anything happened to her."

"I really like her, Blaine," he said earnestly. "There's no way I'd ever hurt her."

"I'm glad, then," Blaine said, leaning back and clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I think you've got a pretty good chance with her."

"Really?" Sam actually looked surprised, and a little bit hopeful.

Blaine chuckled, unzipping his suitcase and folding the cardigan he'd been wearing into it. "You don't see the way she looks at you."

There was a rap on the door, and it swung open to reveal Kurt and Mercedes, their arms linked together. Santana and Brittany were standing behind them, Brittany staring fixedly at the hall ceiling.

"Okay if Santana and Brittany tag along?" Kurt asked, gesturing to the girls behind them. "The other half of the group wanted to go to the Olive Garden, but Brittany said, um, she didn't want to?" he cast an uncertain look at Brittany.

"She refuses to go there since she found out that Olive Garden cuts up cows to make their meatballs," Santana said in explanation.

"Aren't _all_ meatballs-" Mercedes began, but was silenced with a glare from Santana.

Finn and Rachel appeared behind them. "Can we go to Olive Garden?" Finn asked enthusiastically, and Blaine buried his face in his hands.

xxxxx

"I've been trying to hail a cab for the past ten minutes to no avail," Rachel said in frustration, collapsing on the stairs of the building beside Blaine.

"Leave it to a professional," Kurt said, standing up, a self-assured smile on his face. He stepped to the curb and raised an arm over his head. "Taxi!"

Almost immediately, a yellow cab pulled to the side of the road.

The smugness on Kurt's face when he turned to look back at the group was adorably unbearable.

The cab wasn't big enough for the eight of them. Kurt let the two heterosexual couples take the first, then waited on the curb once more for another cab to come along. Santana, Brittany, and Blaine sat patiently on the stoop of the hotel.

It wasn't a long wait. Kurt got the second cab even faster than he'd gotten the first. The cab driver was the stereotypical greasy, middle-aged New York cabbie, Blaine noticed as the four of them crammed themselves into the van-style cab. He also noticed the way the cab driver was leering at Kurt, his eyes raking the boy's form. Blaine slipped an arm around his boyfriend's waist- something that was uncomfortable but not impossible to do when buckled in- and glared somewhat pointedly at the cabbie. The cabbie winked.

Kurt smiled, bemused, at him, as Santana gave the address to a restaurant that she'd apparently gone to with her dad the last time they'd been in New York City.

Blaine nuzzled into Kurt's neck. "You know what the best part about New York is?"

"What?" Kurt asked, trying not to squirm at the way Blaine's breath was tickling his neck.

"If I decide I want to make out with you in the middle of the street, nobody will bat an eyelash," Blaine breathed, sucking a kiss onto Kurt's neck.

"No sex in the back of a cab," Santana admonished. "That's freaking raunchy."

"And the stains don't come out," Brittany said seriously. "Not even with a tide stick."

To Blaine's surprise, Kurt merely laughed. "You would know."

"I would," Santana said, with her Satan-smirk.

The ride to the restaurant was short, but seemed to take _forever_ with Blaine breathing suggestive ideas into his ear. Kurt was pretty sure he'd actually left _marks_ on Blaine's thigh _through_ his jeans, the way he'd been digging in with his nails.

He practically threw the money at the cabbie when they arrived, scrambling out of the cab to lean against the wall and breath deeply, willing himself to calm down.

Santana, Brittany, and Blaine all climbed out at a more leisurely place, Santana and Brittany's hands automatically finding each other once out of the cab.

Santana cast a glance between Blaine and Kurt, then smirked. "We'll give you two a moment. See you inside."

Both boys waited until the girls disappeared into the building. A group of people bustled past, and Blaine spoke once they had passed. "What's going on?"

"You can't just _do_ that, Blaine," Kurt hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Do what?" Blaine asked, tilting his head in the picture of innocence.

"Don't play dumb with me," Kurt groaned, rubbing the heels of his palms over his forehead. "Not here. You can't do that here, when there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing _we _can do about it."

"There are alleyways," Blaine said, winking.

"That's disgusting, Blaine," Kurt said flatly.

"It was a joke, _dear_," Blaine said. "I'm sorry. I won't do it anymore. At least, not until we're back home. Are you ready to go in now? Are you calm enough?"

"Maybe if you stopped looking at me like that," Kurt muttered, closing his eyes.

Blaine suppressed a self-satisfied grin.

After a moment, Kurt opened his eyes again. "Okay, let's go," he said, taking Blaine's hand.

Blaine took a quick look around, then squeezed Kurt's ass as he walked in front of Blaine to get to the door. Kurt jumped, then turned around to glare at him. He batted his eyelashes.

"Dude, what took you guys so long?" Finn asked as they reached the private room Santana had somehow used her Lopez power to reserve. All of the girls at the table (and Sam) rolled their eyes.

"Baby Hummel and Dapperpants McGee here probably figured out that nobody cares here if they suck face in the middle of the street," Santana said smugly, examining her nail beds.

Finn choked.

"Santana, I seem to recall that it was you and Brittany who disappeared into the bathroom at the beginning of the flight and didn't return for half an hour," Kurt shot back.

"It would have been longer, but somebody knocked on the door," Santana said proudly.

Finn choked again.

Sam thumped him on the back. "You guys are killing him."

"Touche," Kurt said to Santana, touching his hand to his brow in mock salute before both he and Blaine sat down. Rachel and Mercedes stood up, excusing themselves to the bathroom. Santana and Brittany, busy giggling and feeding each other bread, didn't notice.

Finn and Sam were murmuring to each other, casting furtive looks around, mostly at Kurt. They didn't seem to realize he'd already noticed them.

After about five minutes of half-heartedly answering Blaine's conversational attempts and straining his ears to pick up bits and pieces of Finn and Sam's conversation (and hearing words like 'Karofsky' and 'team' and 'shocked'), he couldn't take it any more.

"Could you at least try to be a tiny bit less conspicuous?" he asked, leaning forward.

Both boys jumped a little, staring at him,

"You're more than a little obvious," Kurt said, raising an eyebrow. "Care to tell me what's going?"

"I tried to tell you, but you told me you didn't want to know," Finn said defensively.

"Just tell me," Kurt said impatiently.

"Dude, did you know Karofsky's _gay_?" Finn asked.

Kurt's pulse hammered out a beat. His eyes widened. He could feel his blood pressure spiking. "N-no," he said. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Blaine's head tip in their direction, listening.

"I mean, it explains a lot," Sam said. "Why he targeted you so much, like, more than anyone in the school. But yeah. He got outed to the whole football team yesterday."

"How?" Blaine asked softly. To his credit, his eyes were pained.

"He outed himself," Finn said. "He just kind of- exploded."

"It just sort of came out," Sam said. "No pun intended. Azimio and Strando and some of the other guys were messing around, hanging out on Friday. We were all getting hyped for tryouts this fall and trying to figure out summer practices. And then Azimio and Strando started making gay jokes and-" he glanced at Finn.

"We were going to step in," Finn said, "and then Karofsky just kind of... blurted it out. Then he bolted."

Blaine let out a low whistle.

"And when were you planning on telling me this?" Kurt demanded, his voice shrill.

Finn opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Sam came to his rescue. "We were trying to figure out how to tell you, bro."

"How about, 'hey Kurt, Karofsky came out!'?" Kurt said, folding his arms.

"Kurt," Blaine said, laying his hand on his boyfriend's arm. "Look. The way I see it, good for him, that he came out. It's going to be hard for him now, but he can't bully either of us anymore. And-" he hesitated. "It isn't as if this will change anything between the two of us, right?"

"Of course not," Kurt said fiercely, sliding a hand over Blaine's and gripping it tightly. "Why would it?"

"That's what I like to hear," Blaine said, hooking their ankles together underneath the table.

Kurt smiled at Finn and Sam a little sheepishly. "Sorry for snapping."

Sam grinned crookedly. "Understandable."

A body blocked the light shining on them from the ceiling chandelier, and Kurt looked up, expecting the waitress.

Instead, Tina was smiling down at him. "Mind if we join you guys?" she gestured back at Mike, Quinn, Artie, Puck, and Lauren. "The Olive Garden was booked solid, and Santana texted me to tell me where you were. She said you had room at your table."

"_Plenty_," Blaine emphasized, pulling out a chair. "We have an entire room to ourselves, as you can see."

Rachel and Mercedes returned from the bathroom at that moment, giggling and adjusting their hair and shooting covert looks at Sam and Finn.

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" Blaine asked, as Quinn took the seat beside him and squeezed his hand.

"What?" she asked, tipping her head and smiling slightly.

Blaine grinned at her, standing up and tapping his spoon against his glass until he had the rest of the table's attention.

_Dearly beloved, we gather here to say our goodbyes..._

_ Here she lies! No one knew her worth_

_ The late, great daughter of mother earth_

_ On these nights when we celebrate the birth..._

_ On that little town of Bethlehem, we raise our glass_

_ You bet your ass, to... _

_ La vie... boheme..._

Rachel clapped her hands slowly. Kurt's face was alight as he started the chant of _La Vie Boheme_, the rest of the group quickly joining in, slapping their hands against the table in a slow beat.

Blaine stood up on his chair, reaching down to touch Kurt's beaming face for a moment before he continued singing.

_To days of inspiration, playing hooky, making something out of nothing_

_ The need to express to communicate, to going against the grain, going insane_

_ Going mad..._

Puck stood up, too, pulling his guitar from under the table (did he carry that _everywhere_?) and took over for Blaine, who laughed and nodded along to the beat of Finn's hands drumming the table.

_To loving tension, to pension, to more than one dimension_

_ To starving for attention, hating convention, hating pretension_

_ Not to mention, of course, hating dear old Mom and Dad..._

Sam stood up, taking the next verse.

_ To riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits! To fruits! To no absolutes! To Absolut!_

_ To choice! To the Village Voice! To any passing fad!_

_ To being an us for once, instead of a them!_

The entire group chimed in on the next call of _La Vie Boheme!_

It was at this moment that, in a strange imitation of the musical, Santana attempted to suck Brittany's face off.

Finn coughed uncomfortably.

Santana broke away, smirking, and clapped her hands over Brittany's ass. "Hey mister. She's my sister."

Kurt grinned at the waitress, who was laughing in the doorway, then skipped over to her to sing the next verse.

_So that's five miso soup, four seaweed salad, three soy burger, two tofu dog platter and one pasta with meatless balls..._

"Ew," said Blaine, after the beat.

"It tastes the same," Brittany said, shrugging.

"If you close your eyes," Santana said with a wicked grin.

Kurt rolled his eyes, continuing. _And thirteen orders of fries, is that it here?_

"Wine and beer!" Artie and Puck called, lifting their water glasses above their heads.

"Should I give you some more time?" the waitress asked, laughing again.

"Just a little." And with that, Kurt was back at the table, holding hands with Mercedes as they belted out the next lines.

_Compassion, to fashion, to passion when it's new_

_ To Sontag, to Sondheim, to anything taboo_

_ Ginsberg, Dylan, Cunningham and Cage..._

Artie jumped in, throwing his arms over his head. _Lenny Bruce! Langston Hughes!_

_ To the stage!_ Rachel cried, throwing her hands up too as she jumped onto the table.

_To Uta!_ Tina called back, _To Buddha! Pablo Naruda, too..._

Quinn slipped an arm around Tina, singing, _why Dorothy and Toto went over the rainbow to blow off Auntie Em..._

_ La Vie Boheme..._ the rest of the group chimed in.

Brittany bent Santana over the table this time, and it was Sam who asked, "sisters?" with a questioning eyebrow.

Both of them looked at him, and after the beat: "We're close."

Blaine and Kurt pressed their lips together, laughing, calling, "Brothers!"

The rest of the group joined in with the four of them, standing up and twirling each other around, dancing on the chairs and the tables.

_Bisexuals, trisexuals, homo sapiens, carcinogens, hallucinogens, men, Pee Wee Herman,_

_ German wine, Turpentine, Gertrude Stein_

_ Antonioni, Bertolucci, Kurosawa, Carmina Burana_

_ To apathy, to entropy, to empathy, ecstasy_

_ Vaclav Havel, The Sex Pistols, 8BC_

_ To no shame never playing the fame game_

_ To marijuana!_

_ To sodomy, if it's between God and me... to S&M!_

_ La Vie Boheme!_

"Waiter, waiter, waiter!" Blaine called, effectively ending the song as the group broke into slightly smaller groups to discordantly sing all different songs from each other.

Orders were placed, and as the conversation built itself up around Blaine, he had the opportunity to sit by himself and simply observe. He looked around the table: at Quinn, who had opened up to him this year, who'd softened up, who was stuffing french fries into Puck's mouth and laughing. To Santana, who hadn't been honest about herself for most of the year, who had her forehead pressed against Brittany's, who had a smile of pure bliss on her face. To Sam and Mercedes, who had finally found people that would treat them the way they deserved to be treated, who were holding hands with each other.

And finally, to Kurt. Kurt, who had been Blaine's best everything, and then the best thing that had ever happened to Blaine, period. Kurt, who had found Blaine first, then found both of their ways back home.

New Directions was a family to him, now. Dysfunctional at best, but a family.

Kurt watched his boyfriends watching their friends with a faint smile on his face. And somehow, in some way, it hit him then- exactly what he needed to do. He got up, excusing himself for the bathroom, then turned back to glare at the two girls he needed to talk to, hoping the feeling of burning in the backs of their heads at his gaze would be enough to make them turn around.

No such luck. "Psst," he hissed, gesturing frantically towards Mercedes and Rachel.

Finally they noticed him. As they hurried towards him, he held the door to the girls' bathroom open and ushered them inside, pointedly ignoring the questioning look on Blaine's face.

"It's been a while since you've called for a secret meeting in the girls' bathroom," Rachel said enthusiastically, perching herself on the counter and swinging her legs to and fro. "To what do we owe this honor?"

"I want to have sex with Blaine," Kurt said, without preamble.

Rachel fell off the sinks. Mercedes clapped her hands in excitement.

"Tonight?" Rachel asked, once she'd recovered.

Kurt nodded. "I wanted it to be special, and what's better than having our first time in New York City, the night before Nationals? And then, even if we lose, there will still be something wonderful for us to remember our time here by."

"And you want us to get the boys out of the room," Mercedes said, rubbing her hands together.

"I'd rather not have my first time with my stepbrother and Sam in the room, that's true," Kurt said. He fixed his gaze on them. "I know neither of you are good at keeping secrets, but would you _please_ not tell anyone until we're _home_ from Nationals? I want this to be really special. Please."

"We won't, Kurt," Rachel said earnestly. "My lips are sealed. I swear."

"Thank you," he half-squealed, squeezing their hands, and the three of them rushed in a giggling mass out of the bathroom.

He had no idea how to approach the idea with Blaine or if Blaine was even ready for something that serious. But for a while now, he'd been thinking about it. Dreaming about it, even. The more he was with Blaine, the more certain he was that he was ready.

He knew that, if he had it his way, it would be in the next two days. If he had it his way, it would be _that night_. It would be before they left New York.

"Where do you all want to go?" Rachel asked, swinging Finn's hand as they left the restaurant. "There are a bunch of shops and museums, well, everywhere."

"Broadway," Kurt said immediately, without hesitation. "We're in New York, we _have_ to go down Broadway."

"You'll hear no protests from me," Rachel said, linking her arm through his. "Shall we, then?"

He felt the familiar butterflies under his skin, the twist in his stomach as Blaine slipped a hand into his and smiled at him, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

Both of them drooled a while over the _How To Succeed In Business _billboard (come _on_, it was a giant closeup of Daniel Radcliffe's face!) until they were dragged away by their friends. Kurt and Rachel attempted to sneak into the Wicked stage, but were quickly caught by security.

The trip to Central Park was more relaxed, less snapping pictures and running around and more frisbee games and lazily lying about on the grass.

Blaine spread out a giant red-and-navy comforter he'd brought that reminded him of Dalton (which he actually missed, although he'd never admit it to New Directions) and laid down on it, closing his eyes and letting the sunlight soak into his skin.

Kurt folded himself gracefully onto the blanket beside him, settling himself down cross-legged on the grass. "It shouldn't be legal for Mr. Schuester to let us wander around New York on our own, without supervision."

"It's Mr. Schuester," Blaine pointed out. "Since when has responsibility been one of his defining characteristics?"

"Touche," Kurt mumbled, and his spine slumped a little before he seemed to realize himself and straightened again.

Blaine threw an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light as he squinted up at Kurt. "Come on. Loosen up." He tugged Kurt's arm. "Lay down on the blanket and look at the clouds with me."

"There are no clouds," Kurt pointed out, slowly lowering himself to the blanket.

"Then look at the sky darkening. Look at the color. Isn't it pretty?"

"You're impossible," Kurt groaned. "Yes, it's pretty. This is weird."

Blaine tipped his head against Kurt's shoulder. "You're beautiful/"

Kurt leaned up on his elbows to check around them, making sure nobody else from New Directions was listening in or even anywhere near them.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked softly.

Blaine's brow crinkled. "Of course, Kurt. What about?"

Kurt closed his eyes a moment, then rolled over to his side. Blaine followed suit so they were facing each other, their faces only inches apart.

"I love what we do," Kurt began. "Physically," he clarified at the look of confusion on Blaine's face. "But, um. I'm seventeen. And a teenage boy. And in love."

Blaine still looked confused.

"I want to do more," Kurt said, holding Blaine's gaze. "I love you. And, if you're ready, I'd like to go... all the way, with you."

Blaine's breath hitched. "Tonight?"

Kurt smiled slightly. "That's what I was thinking. If- if you're ready."

Blaine pushed himself up until he was hovering over Kurt and kissed him fiercely- long, hot, deep. He was the one to end the kiss, too, as he broke away and leaned his forehead against Kurt's, breathing heavily.

"Is that a... yes?" Kurt asked hesitantly.

"It's a yes, _please_," Blaine breathed, bringing his hand up to stroke a thumb over Kurt's cheekbone. "How will we-"

"Remember Rachel and Mercedes' and my conference in the girls' room after La Vie Boheme?"

"Yes?"

"We came up with a ploy for them to get Finn and Sam out of our hotel room. We'll have it to ourselves until tomorrow morning."

Blaine gazed at him, his utter astonishment evident on his face. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, "I'm sure, Blaine, that I want to fuck you."

Blaine choked a little.

Kurt's eyes widened and he backtracked quickly. "I mean, unless that's- unless you'd rather- you want to-"

He was cut off by Blaine rolling back onto the blanket, tugging Kurt on top of him, and kissing him as if his life depended on it.

When they pulled apart again, they looked up to see Brittany sitting cross-legged, close to the edge of the blanket, with a very serious and semi-worried expression on her face. "Can I get pregnant from this?"

Blaine began to laugh. After a moment, Kurt joined in.

xxxxx

Dinner was (amazingly, wonderfully) uneventful- at least by New Directions' standards. Apparently Mr. Schuester and Emma had had their usual sort of romantic drama, and this time that drama had resulted in love, rather than heartbreak. They were holding hands on the top of the table.

Kurt and Blaine sat next to each other, as always. This time, there was a new sort of electrical charge in the air when they looked at each other, a heat in their gaze that they'd been afraid to show before. Anticipation, in the way they shivered when their hands brushed under the table.

It seemed that Rachel and Mercedes had at least been true to their word. They hadn't told anyone about him and Blaine- he knew that if they had, Finn would have that pained look on his face, Santana would be smirking and making lewd comments, and Puck would be winking at them so frequently it would appear as if he had a twitch. None of the above was happening, so Kurt could safely assume nobody had been told.

He may have feigned interest during Mr. Schue's inspirational pre-Nationals speech, being more focused instead upon Blaine's fingers running up and down his thigh. He could feel a trail of heat where his boyfriend's fingers had been, the rise of goosebumps across his skin.

Oh, god. He was going to _sleep_ with Blaine- in both the literal and figurative sense. He tried to force his breathing back to normalcy. In, out. In, out.

Mr. Schue dismissed them with permission to explore the city.

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other, then their watches. It was nine o'clock.

They went back to the hotel, by unspoken mutual agreement.

Blaine put on Moulin Rouge for both of them to watch, curling up against Kurt on the bed, resting his head on Kurt's chest. About a quarter of the way through the film, he slipped his hand under the hem of Kurt's shirt and began tracing the slight muscles of his stomach.

Halfway through, the movie was forgotten.

It was right in every way- their first time being in New York City. As Kurt lowered him gently back against the pillows, kissing down his throat, unbuttoning his shirt as he traveled, Blaine turned his head to look out the window. He could see, through the half-closed curtain, a world of bright lights and colorful noise, a world where nobody slept and everyone laughed and sang and cried and loved. A world where Kurt belonged, and a world where Kurt maybe already was.

And he let Kurt take him there.

xxxxx

The knock on the door in the morning was what woke him up. It took Blaine a moment to realize that he wasn't wearing clothes, that there was another body tucked against his side, equally as nude, with its arm throw around his waist.

The body made a sighing noise, and slipped a leg in between his. Blaine was slowly made aware of a distinct ache in a part of his body that didn't normally ache, and the previous night came trickling back as he regained awareness. Kurt _everywhere_, on him, _in_ him- the way their breath mixed and the way their skin slid against each other's. Kurt's whispers in his ear, _"I love you, I'm sorry,"_ at first, when it had hurt, and his inability to speak when the pain had ebbed and _something else_ had kicked in.

There was another knock. "Dudes, you awake? I don't really want to walk in on anything," Sam's voice said.

Kurt moaned a little, then opened his eyes, his gaze going directly to Blaine. His lips immediately curved into a soft smile. "Hi, love."

"Hi," Blaine whispered back, stroking his fingertips up Kurt's arm and shoulder, letting his hand come to rest on his neck.

"Guys?" Sam's voice was even more uncertain.

"We'll be out in a minute," Kurt called back. He sat up, the sheet falling to his hips, and Blaine took the opportunity to admire the hickeys that were scattered along his neck and chest, and the two bruised low on his hips.

Kurt pressed his fingers to the marks, hissing a little at the flare of slight pain (and arousal) that pressing on those marks caused him. "Possessive, aren't you?"

"Had to find _some_ way to mark you," Blaine murmured. His throat was sore- heat rose in his cheeks as he remembered exactly why it was.

"How are you feeling?" Kurt asked tenderly. "Sore?"

Blaine shifted, wincing. "A little."

"I'm sorry."

Blaine gave him a _don't-you-dare_ sort of look. "Don't apologize, Kurt. It's going to happen. It would have hurt no matter what. You were amazing- thank you."

"I love you," Kurt whispered, ducking his head to softly kiss Blaine.

"I love you, too," Blaine returned, pushing himself out of bed gingerly. "I'm going to take a shower, okay?" He stopped, eying Kurt and smirking a little. "You might want to... put a robe on or something. Your body distinctly screams, '_I just had sex'_ and while Sam might not have a problem with it, I don't think we want to scar Finn."

"Good idea," Kurt said, getting up.

As it turned out, it was too late for that anyway. Rachel and Mercedes stayed true to their word until the end- however, Blaine's rather hitched walking gave it all away.

xxxxx

They didn't win. They gave it their all, but they just weren't good enough to beat Vocal Adrenaline, even _with_ the original songs sung by Puck and Santana.

Strangely enough, Mr. Schuester seemed to be the only one who was truly, heartbreakingly disappointed by their second-place finish- but all of New Directions had long since become accustomed to Mr. Schue's odd way of living vicariously through all of them.

Kurt and Blaine changed, but not exactly visibly. There was something different, though- something in Blaine's voice when he sang to Kurt, something in Kurt's eyes when he gazed at Blaine. Something on their lips and in their voices when they spoke to each other. Something in the way they touched each other.

It was unexplainable, what had changed. Nobody could quite put their finger on what it was.

Kurt and Blaine knew with a part of their brains that they didn't know existed. They knew it was a change in love- from the kind of love that any high school couple could have, to the kind of love that rang of forever.

**A/N: Well... at least it was a long chapter!**

**Next up: The Epilogue! **


	28. Epilogue

**A/N: Here it is, the final chapter of WAFO.**

**... I have no fucking idea what I'm going to do with my time after this.**

**Also, the people in the room next to me are discussing someone's "sack" in a very sexual manner, which disturbed me until I realized they're talking about a hacky sack.**

**August, 2011**

"Hamburgers are off the grill!" Puck called from the Hummel's patio, waving a spatula above his head. Kurt winced, watching tiny grease droplets fly everywhere. "Mike? Finn? Blaine?"

"Cheeseburger," Blaine called back. He attempted to get up to go get his plate, but Kurt flattened himself even more against his boyfriend, refusing to budge.

"Kurt, I have to go get my food," Blaine protested half-heartedly, laughing.

"Nope," Kurt insisted, leaning against Blaine's shoulder and nuzzling into his neck (even though really, it was far too hot for that kind of behavior). "Let them bring it over here to you."

Fondness swelled in Blaine's chest, and he draped an arm around Kurt. "I think you're wonderful, you know that?"

"It helps to be reminded every once in a while," Kurt said coyly. He tangled his and Blaine's feet together.

"You know there are two lounge chairs," Quinn pointed out, perching herself on the arm of the second, empty one. "Aren't you both a little big to squeeze into one chair? You look squished."

"We are comfortably suffocated, thank you," Kurt said primly, running his fingers up Blaine's side, under his t-shirt. Blaine squirmed a little.

Jane crossed the yard, carrying Blaine's plate in her hands.

"Be careful," Quinn called, watching her walk with worry in her eyes. "The ground is a little uneven. Don't fall."

Blaine had been the tiniest bit surprised that Quinn had taken on such a maternal role towards Jane. Other than Blaine, she was the most protective of the girl, the most careful around her. While Kurt acted like Jane's best friend, Quinn was more like an over-protective, loving mother. Her eyes watched the tiny girl like a hawk as she drew closer.

"I'm _fine_, Quinn," Jane laughed as she handed Blaine the plate. "You can't watch out for me forever, you know. Especially when we're all at college next year."

"You're going to college?" Mercedes asked in surprise, from where she was sprawled out on the grass with Sam a few feet away from them.

Jane's entire face glowed. "Layne met with a ton of nurses and doctors and discussed my options with them, then pitched a few ideas to them and my parents. There are _all_ these people who have had OI and have been able to live normal lives- Layne even met one who got married and successfully had a _baby_. With my test scores, there are colleges that are willing to help me with my specific requirements of living."

"So you get to go to college?" Quinn asked, a small, incredulous smile on her face.

Jane nodded. "Mom and Dad didn't see the point in sending me to high school for my last year- _especially_ after hearing what sort of things went down and after Kurt showed them the scars he has from being shoved into lockers there- but they're willing to let me try college. The doctors said that although it's important for teenagers to have social interaction, which is what high school is for, I'm lucky enough to have a twin brother who has a large group of friends who have accepted me into their midst."

"You're going to end up socially stunted if your only interaction with peers is with _us_," Kurt said, casting a pointed look at Puck, who was shoving an entire hot dog in his mouth.

"I am so sorry," Blaine said sincerely to his grinning sister.

She shook her head, laughing. "I'd rather be socially stunted by people like you than stay home all my life."

"Puck," Kurt called suddenly. Across the yard, Puck set down an empty bottle of lighter fluid and struck a match. "Don't-"

There was a roaring noise and a burst of flames, and Puck backed away from the grill, waving his hand in front of his face, either laughing or coughing (Blaine couldn't tell which- to be honest, it was probably a combination of both).

"Idiot," Kurt sighed, wriggling out of Blaine's grasp to march over to Puck and tell him off.

"I can't believe we're going to be seniors," Quinn sighed, slipping into the spot beside Blaine that Kurt had just vacated. "Our last year of high school."

Blaine wasn't sure how Kurt and Finn had gotten Burt to agree with it, _again_- a party of teenagers at the house when he wasn't home. True, this time nobody was drinking (even Puck, which was surprising), but still. A party like this _reeked _of disaster.

Still, aside from the grill going up in flames (which Kurt was _still_ chewing Puck out for), there had been no real problems. It was just one final hoop-la before the school started up again, and with it, the toughest year they'd have to face in the Lima School District (which actually, wasn't really saying all that much).

He smiled at Quinn to acknowledge that he heard and agreed with her statement, just as his pocket vibrated. He pulled it out and snorted when he saw who it was.

**WES: **Let me ask this- why does David always get the seat between the hot college girls and I get stuck next to the old women and sweaty men?

Both Wes and David were on a plane on their way to college. In a move that had surprised... well, nobody, they had chosen to go to the same college as each other. They were roommates-they knew they'd work well together, having already shared a room for four years.

Mike wandered over to offer to teach Jane to dance, and Quinn and Blaine were left alone on the chair.

"I almost quit, you know," Quinn said.

"Why?" he asked. He'd never even considered the possibility of the idea of _anyone_ in their group leaving. It would just be... wrong.

"Because after Sam and I broke up, and I messed up Finn and Rachel, I realized that I didn't actually have any _friends_ in the club," she said. "I was a bitch to everyone. Nobody there liked me, and I knew it. So I told myself I'd stay, just for Regionals, and then I'd go. I would quit, because nobody there would miss me."

Blaine opened his mouth to protest, before realizing she was right. Or she had been, at the time. People had already formed their groups of friends and couples-Brittany and Santana, Kurt and Mercedes, Tina and Mike, Finn and Rachel-and even when Rachel wasn't with Finn, she was still _liked_ by people like Puck and Mercedes and later, Kurt. Nobody had been alone.

Except Quinn.

"And then you joined the club," Quinn continued. "And you were somehow different. You _cared_. You _listened_, and not because you wanted to get with me. You actually just wanted to be my friend. I actually had a _friend_ in the club, and I can't tell you how much that meant to me." She smiled softly.

He slipped an arm around her, squeezing once before releasing her. "I love you, too, Quinn," he said, in an almost teasing sort of way. "Why don't we go light the fire pit? It's getting dark, and I really don't trust Puck with that task."

She laughed. "I think I'll stay here, actually. I'd like to talk to Rachel. I think... it might be possible for us to be... friends."

Blaine smile was huge, immediate. He stood up as the girl in question approached. "Well, I would hate to be a bother. Excuse me, then."

Kurt intercepted him as he walked across the lawn, having finished telling Puck off; annoyance still rolled off of him in waves.

It was kind of hot.

"It's getting dark," Blaine murmured, crouching down at the edge of the fire pit. "Do you want to light up the pit?"

He felt Kurt crouch down beside him, and a soft pair of lips touched the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose on his skin that had nothing to do with the rapidly cooling dusk air and everything to do with the way Kurt's hand was creeping up under the hem of his shirt and over his stomach.

He still got the same butterflies in his belly as he'd gotten the moment he'd first set eyes on Kurt. He had this funny feeling that he always would.

He let Kurt push him back into one of the wicker chairs by the pit, and sat watching his boyfriend as he scurried around, preparing the fire. He was sort of... checking him out not-so-subtly, letting his eyes wander over Kurt's body, remembering events and occurrences he wouldn't have dared remember had anyone else been around.

A year ago, he didn't know Kurt. He'd spent the summer trying to keep Wes and David in control and away from anything even remotely flammable. A year ago, he'd sat by himself during a few hopeless nights, thinking to himself that he'd _never_ get a boyfriend.

10 months ago, he'd turned around on his way to an impromptu performance in the senior commons at a quiet "excuse me" and his heart had leapt into his throat. He'd made a new friend when he realized this boy was exactly like him, could possibly be the most important person in Blaine's life. He'd been stupid, however, to think that they'd only ever be best friends.

9 months ago, his best friend had yelled at him, told him he was repressed and bipolar and that he needed to start being _himself_ and everything would fall into place. He'd been right.

8 months ago, Blaine had sung a song while strumming a street musician's guitar in an empty park, had looked at Kurt, and realized that there was _way_ more than friendship there.

7 months ago, Jane had begun to change, because of a few choice words spoken to her by Kurt. Kurt had done what nobody else had been able to do-reach down _below_ Jane's homophobia and dig out the real reason for her hatred for Blaine. Jane had begun to feel again, because Kurt knew how to work miracles.

6 months ago, Kurt had shocked him with a confession before an onstage duet. 6 months ago, Blaine had transferred to Kurt's school to stop running and tell Kurt exactly how he felt about him, with a song Blaine found himself that (for once) wasn't top forty.

They'd been together for half a year, and Blaine somehow knew it was no time at all in comparison to the rest of forever they'd have with each other.

_Who knows how I've loved you, you know I love you still_

_ Will I wait a lonely lifetime, if you want me to, I will..._

Gradually, he came to realize that Kurt was humming to himself, singing words softly under his breath as he moved around, arranging wood and leaves and twigs.

_For if I ever saw you, I didn't catch your name_

_ but it never really mattered, I will always feel the same_

_ Love you forever, and forever, love you with all my heart_

_ Love you whenever we're together, love you when we're apart..._

He'd only told Kurt once or twice before exactly how much he _loved_ hearing Kurt sing- how much he loved his voice and the way his eyes lit up. How much he loved it when Kurt sang to him-because then Blaine knew that that _voice_, that _face_, those _eyes_... were just for him.

_And when at last I find you, your song will fill the air_

_ Sing it loud so I can hear you, make it easy to be near you_

_ For the things you do endear you to me, oh, you know, I will_

_ I will..._

Sometimes, at seemingly the most random of times, it would hit Blaine exactly how much he _loved_ Kurt Hummel. The feeling would grab him unexpectedly around the heart, knocking the breath out of him, reminding him that _yes_, it was possible to find it at the age of sixteen.

He knew he was a teenager. He knew Kurt was his first boyfriend.

In his mind, that didn't really change anything at all.

Kurt stood up, having successfully started the fire, and turned around so quickly it caught Blaine completely by surprise; He was unable to drag his eyes up to Kurt's face in time.

Kurt's cheeks were a lovely pink color, though whether it was from the lingering heat of the summer's day or embarrassment, Blaine couldn't tell. He let himself admire the freckles that were lightly dusted across Kurt's nose, and that quickly led to the thought of _other_ freckles on other, more hidden parts of Kurt's body. _Don't go there, Blaine_.

"Enjoying the view?" Kurt's voice asked, and there was a tinge of amusement to his voice, but a tinge of insecurity, too.

It seemed unbelievable in almost every way that Kurt would still be insecure, after all the two had done together and all they'd said to each other, but it also made sense, in a way. Every so often, Blaine would feel a flash of insecurity himself when he'd knock on Kurt's door and Kurt would open it looking like _that_, lightyears ahead of Blaine appearance-wise, breathtaking in a way Blaine would never be able to achieve.

Blaine knew by now the only way to handle the tiny glimpses of uncertainty he saw in Kurt. He pitched his voice low, murmuring "I am," and glancing up at Kurt through his eyelashes.

Kurt's lips were warm against his, the skin of his lower back damp where Blaine's hands clutched; it had taken effort to start that fire. Blaine shouldn't have found Kurt's _sweat_ so attractive, but oh, he so did.

"Keep it in your pants, boys," Santana drawled as she strolled past, hand-in-hand with Brittany.

"Are you talking about their pockets?" Brittany asked her.

Kurt stepped forward, sliding his hands over Blaine's hips and breathing in his ear, "you are _so_ getting laid tonight."

A grin split Blaine's face. Hell _yes_, he was.

One by one, as the sky grew darker, the others wandered to the fire, taking seats on the ground or the lawn chairs. Puck and Artie were the last over, Puck pushing Artie's wheelchair, his guitar slung around his shoulders and against his back.

Kurt nestled into Blaine's side on the wooden swing bench. Santana and Brittana squeezed into the space with them, Santana unexpectedly slipping her hand into Blaine's. When he looked at her in surprise, she simply smiled in an uncharacteristically soft way, and leaned her head against his.

Puck took a lawn chair next to Artie's wheelchair, pulling his guitar from around his shoulder, into his hands, strumming the strings lightly with a tune Blaine vaguely recognized.

Mercedes and Sam were cuddled up on the ground by the fire. Quinn was sitting cross-legged nearby, holding hands with Jane and staring into the flames in a pensive sort of way. Rachel was sitting on Finn's lap in one of the chairs; Tina and Mike were imitating them a few feet away in a different chair. Lauren was beside Puck, clapping along with the guitar.

Artie was the one who began to sing first, his voice pitching into its higher register.

_I backed my car into a cop car the other day_

_ Well, he just drove off, sometimes life's okay_

_ I ran my mouth off a bit too much, oh what did I say?_

_ Well, you just laughed it off, it was all okay..._

He wasn't saying goodbye, not yet. He still had another full year with the group of insane people surrounding him. A full year of breakups and makeups and insanity and drama. And love. Lots of that, too.

The Warblers had been his friends for a long time-he'd always considered Wes and David to be like his brothers. But this group was his _family_. Quinn was like another sister to him. Finn was the brother he never had. He knew that despite anything anyone else said, he'd stay in contact with these people past high school. He loved them-all of them-even if he'd only been here half a year.

Artie was still singing, but Tina had joined in, her smile bright on her face, and Brittany and Santana were singing the words softly to each other, shadows from the flames flickering across their skin.

_A fake Jamaican took every last time with that scam, it was worth it just to learn some slight of hand_

_ Bad news comes, don't you worry, even when it lands, good news will work its way to all them plans_

_ We both got fired on exactly the same day, well we'll float on, good news is on the way_

Kurt's arm wound around his waist, and Blaine couldn't stop the small smile that crossed his face. He felt Kurt's lips move against his neck, singing softly along with the music-softly enough that only Blaine could hear.

_All right, already and we'll all float on, okay_

_ Don't worry we'll all float on,_

_ Even if things get heavy, we'll all float on_

_ All right, already we'll all float on_

_ Don't worry we'll all float on..._

_ All float on..._

**A/N: and thus concludes the longest story I've ever finished.**

***phew***

**It's been a journey! Thank you **_**so**_** much, all of you, just for being there for me. I love you. I **_**love**_** you. Thank you for sticking with this monster that ran away from me (seriously, go back and read the A/N in chapter one. This was supposed to be a one-shot. *snorts*). Thank you for your reviews, your love, your **_**everything**_**. You guys are amazing as anything and you kept me writing.**

**And thank you to all my tumblr friends who have to deal with me liveblogging my frustrations whenever I got stuck during a chapter.**

**Thank you all for reading! It's been a trip.**


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